Second Time Around
by steph7of7
Summary: The Second War, as seen from the eyes of Severus Snape.
1. Chapter 1

NOTES:

I'm sure this story has been better told by others, but I can't find it. And while I adore AUs, I also love canon Snape-the mean asshole Snape, the one without the warm, fuzzy center. I want to know more about HIM. But the more you write about Snape, the warmer and fuzzier his center gets. GOD, I LOVE HIM.

You'll recognize quite a bit of borrowed dialogue from the books. I mean, you know, unless you live under a rock, or have forgotten the books, in which case, nevermind.

Also, Minerva McGonagall wormed her way into this fic waaaaaaaay more than I thought she would. As I was writing, it slowly became obvious to me that I did all of this for her benefit. If I were, like, a **writer** writer, I probably would have known that going in. But we're all agreed: it's always amateur hour out here on the interwebs.

The title and chapter headings are from Amy Ray's song "Second Time Around." If your heart's ever been broken-not necessarily by a lover-but just broken by life and circumstance, that is a fine song to listen to all day and all night.

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _Second time around, you know  
it really got me down  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

Severus Snape took great comfort in hating Harry Potter. The hatred was uncomplicated, which made his relationship with the boy unique. In Severus's world, dualities were the norm and trust was rare. And he could trust his hatred of the Potter boy. For almost four whole years, anyway.

But the during the fourth year, things started to change. The signs were obvious and Severus was no fool: he saw the writing on the wall, as well as the Mark on his arm. Dumbledore had been closed-lipped about his own suspicions, but this only increased Severus's own paranoia.

When, during the Final Task of the first Triwizard Tournament in a century, Severus's Dark Mark burned black, he marched up to Dumbledore with blazing eyes, and showed the older man his arm. Dumbledore looked at him sadly. "You must wait, Severus," he said. Dumbledore turned to look at the maze and corrected himself quietly: "We must wait."

And then Potter appeared in the middle of the lawn with the body of Cedric Diggory. (Diggory was not a natural in Potions, but his hard work was obvious, and Severus was occasionally pleasantly surprised by some theory or conclusion Diggory put forward in an essay. The boy's practical potion-making ability was as steady as the sun, and he was an excellent addition to Severus's N.E.W.T.-level class. In a few weeks, Severus would get the results from that year's N.E.W.T.s, and he would be unsurprised to find that Diggory had earned an E, despite the stress of the tournament on his young shoulders. Steady as the sun.)

And then Moody was really Barty Crouch Jr., and was trying to kill Harry Potter; a mangy dog was really Sirius Black, and was trying to protect Harry Potter; and Severus was really a spy, and found himself suddenly and inexplicably ambivalent towards Harry Potter-but before Severus could dwell on recent developments, Dumbledore asked him to report to the Dark Lord. He squared his shoulders and did what was asked of him. There was nothing else to be done. It was always going to be like this. Despite the recent nature of the revelations, Crouch had been Moody all year, Sirius Black had been a dog all along, and Severus had been a spy since he made his decision almost thirteen years before. The fact that spying had been largely unnecessary for the last twelve and a half years was irrelevant. Severus had had all year-a year of looking at the darkening Mark on his arm-to come to terms with this moment. He swept down to his quarters, collected his cloak and mask (hated thing-buried in a dusty box in the back corner of his closet-proof of Severus's own devastating choices), and marched purposefully out of the castle towards the Apparition boundary. Crossing the boundary, he immediately Apparated to the Dark Lord's side.

* * *

The wrath of the Dark Lord was terrible, which Severus could have predicted if he'd allowed himself the luxury of hesitation. Harry Potter had just escaped his clutches, and what should have been a moment of triumph-a return from death, the defeat of an enemy, all witnessed by his loyal followers and no one else-had instead been a major embarrassment. Severus was sure that the Dark Lord would have liked to alleviate his humiliation by killing the witnesses, but even in his evident madness, the Dark Lord knew he couldn't afford to kill all who remained of his Death Eaters.

At least, this is what Severus supposed. There were no bodies in the graveyard, and the only Death Eater still present was-Peter Pettigrew? (If Sirius Black was a dog on Dumbledore's side, then it must be true that Peter Pettigrew was not only alive, but also a rat on the Dark Lord's side. Severus took it in stride.) It seemed that the Dark Lord had allowed his loyal followers to live, and for a few moments, Severus wondered if the Dark Lord would content himself with killing the lone latecomer. But after inflicting the Cruciatus Curse for several long minutes (or maybe long seconds or hours-Severus could never tell), the Dark Lord paused and demanded an explanation. Severus gave one, laced with apologies and flattery. Meanwhile, he could sense Pettigrew nearby, shifting uncomfortably, trying to gauge the mood of the Dark Lord. After all, Pettigrew wouldn't want to jeer if the Dark Lord believed Severus; he wouldn't want to nod if the Dark Lord took exception.

Finally, finally, the Dark Lord nodded, and Severus scrambled to kiss the hem of his robes. The Dark Lord accepted his submission.

"This evening has not gone according to plan. But all is not lost. Go back to Dumbledore. Learn how he protects the boy. I shall call you, and when I do, you will come to me immediately." His eyes rested on Severus briefly, and Severus looked down. "Be ready. Now go."

Severus nodded and Disapparated. He knew his best destination, and went there. He Apparated just in front of Gregory Nott's home. Of all his former colleagues, he knew Nott would be the most malleable.

When Nott answered the door, he erupted. "Bloody hell, Severus, what do you mean by it?"

"I find myself unwilling to go back to my own residence, Gregory, and I could use a drink."

Nott huffed. "Well it's hardly my fault if you want to live in the shadow of that old coot. Go find a pub somewhere and leave me out of it."

Severus grabbed Nott's arm and leaned in close. "Thirteen years, Gregory. Thirteen years and we haven't known who to trust. Finally we announce our loyalties: Yes, this is who I am and what I stand for, and we know we can trust each other. And no, I cannot immediately go back to that manipulative old man who thinks I am his. All I ask for is one drink. Half an hour. Then I will leave and continue with the charade that has been my life for over a decade."

"You announced your loyalties when YOU DIDN'T SHOW!"

"I showed myself at a time when I could be of most service to the Dark Lord! I have just left his side this moment!"

"Prove it."

"The only witness to my meeting with the Dark Lord was Peter Pettigrew, who seems to have recently acquired a new hand." Severus was aware that this was a flimsy story. The truth behind it was irrelevant; there were countless ways the knowledge of Pettigrew and his hand could have come to Severus...well, second-hand. But he had chosen his target well, as Gregory Nott was not the kind of man who would think of different possibilities.

The man nodded. "One drink," Nott said.

"One drink," Severus agreed.

"Half an hour," Nott said.

"Half an hour," Severus agreed.

Nott turned and walked inside, leaving Severus to follow and close the door behind him. Severus walked after him, subtly reaching for a hidden pocket as he did so.

Severus's billowing robes concealed many pockets. Most were merely hidden and contained innocuous healing potions and one small vial of Strengthening Serum. Two pockets, though, were made of mokeskin, and only Severus could retrieve their contents. These contained potions far more dangerous to be caught with. From one of these pockets, Severus retrieved a vial of Forgetting Brew. One small sip, and the drinker would neither remember the following hour nor notice the memory gap. Now all Severus had to do was slip the brew into Nott's drink.

Nott made this job easy; the moment they reached his sitting room, Nott pointed Severus to the liquor cabinet and excused himself. Severus wasted no time pouring two whiskeys, and poured the entire vial of Forgetting Brew into one of the glasses. He placed the adulterated drink on a side table and took a small sip of his own. He couldn't decide if Nott's actions made him careless, overly trusting, or just plain stupid. After all, who in their right mind drank something that had been alone in a room with a Potions Master whose loyalty was clearly in question? Severus supposed he would reserve judgment until Nott actually drank.

Before Severus could descend too far in his thoughts, Nott returned to the room with a muttered apology, grabbed the drink from the table, and tossed it back in one go.

The man was just plain stupid, Severus decided. But it was all to his own benefit, so Severus wasted no time. "Gregory, I need you to think about exactly what happened tonight."

"What?" Nott said, but Severus was already standing in front of him, pointing his wand directly at the man's temple.

"Think. About what happened after you were summoned to the Dark Lord's side." Nott closed his eyes, and Severus drew his wand slowly from Nott's temple. A strand of silver, neither liquid nor gas, clung to his wand. He took the memory, stored it in a vial, and placed it in a mokeskin pocket of his robes.

"And now, I take my leave of this place. Thank you for the hospitality." He had what he needed, and Nott would remember nothing of this anyway. He could afford to be abrupt.

Severus took the memory directly to Dumbledore. The hour was late, but he found the Headmaster pacing in his office. "Ah, Severus. It's good to see you return. How was Tom?"

"Displeased. I have Gregory Nott's memory of the evening, and would like to view it with you."

Dumbledore hesitated, which spiked Severus's emotions. "Or perhaps I could view it without you," he said with venom. "I have no intention of returning to the Dark Lord's service without knowing everything he told the others. And let me be clear, Headmaster: I have no intention of remaining in your service without knowing the exact means of Harry Potter's escape."

"You misunderstand my hesitation, Severus. Harry has already told me his side of tonight's events, and I find myself most unwilling to see it firsthand."

"Forgive me, Headmaster, but I find myself unwilling to believe the word of a traumatized fourteen-year-old boy."

Dumbledore gave him a sharp look, which may have been a rebuke, but somehow felt more like a question. Severus didn't know how to respond, as he wasn't sure what Dumbledore meant by it. Dumbledore sighed and said, "Very well. I suppose it doesn't matter if the time is right; the time is upon us. Let us see what Gregory Nott's memory can tell us." And he Summoned the Pensieve and the two men fell in.

* * *

Severus and Dumbledore watched as the Dark Lord did his interminable grandstanding. Severus could see the body of Cedric Diggory lying just outside the circle of Death Eaters. Potter was prominently displayed inside the circle, bound and gagged, wide-eyed and white as a sheet. The Dark Lord perversely ignored the boy, and the Death Eaters struggled to follow his example.

Severus noted the Dark Lord's threat to his own life with disinterest. It was just more useless grandstanding; a show put on for the mob.

When the Dark Lord touched Potter's cheek, Potter screamed in fear. This was unexpected; Severus hated the boy, but he knew him well enough to know that fear was an unlikely reaction in this situation. He blinked in confusion, and what he saw when he opened his eyes confused him even more: Potter wasn't screaming in _fear_ ; he was screaming in _pain_. Severus turned to Dumbledore. "Why would that cause the boy pain?"

Dumbledore didn't look at him. He exhaled slowly and finally said, "As to that, Severus, I have only my suspicions."

Suspicions which were, no doubt, very good, but not for Severus to know. He sighed and listened to the Dark Lord crow more about his accomplishments. The Dark Lord paused his narrative only to unleash an Unforgivable Curse on a bound and gagged child. The Death Eaters laughed, probably mainly in relief that the Dark Lord's ire was not turned towards any of them at the moment, but there was gleeful malice in their laughter as well. Severus felt something slightly uncomfortable in his belly. He vaguely thought he might be hungry; it had been a while since dinner.

Meanwhile, Potter seemed to recover remarkably quickly, and was able to stand on his own when he was untied moments later. His eyes darted everywhere, like a cornered animal desperate to escape.

Severus watched the boy endure one, two more Unforgivable Curses. The discomfort in his belly grew. When Potter threw off the Imperius Curse with a shout, Severus twitched. He glanced at Dumbledore, but the older man was not looking at him.

And then, the Killing Curse. It was inevitable. The Dark Lord would not neglect the final of the three Unforgivables. He heard Potter shout the Disarming Charm, and Severus felt an inexplicable tingling-behind his eyes, back up in his nose-like he needed to sneeze.

The Disarming Charm. Years before, Severus himself had taken it upon himself to work with Gilderoy Lockhart, that worthless lump of a human being, in order to teach the students something useful during the one and only meeting of the Dueling Club. He had planned to demonstrate several useful spells, but Lockhart's sole talent was neutralizing effectiveness in others-and then Potter chose that one critical moment to demonstrate Parseltongue-of all the skills, and all the times and places he could have done so-Parseltongue, in front of the whole school, during the one actual Defense lesson they would have all year-well. Severus had only managed to teach that one rudimentary charm, and here it was, years later, and the Disarming Charm was Potter's only defense against the fucking Killing Curse.

Severus's eyes started to water, and he realized with horror that he didn't need to sneeze.

And then the impossible happened as the two wands locked up, and even though Severus watched the whole thing, he couldn't believe it. He wondered if Nott's memory had been tampered with. But then the remnant of Cedric Diggory appeared, and both Potter and the Dark Lord looked so unnerved that the scene, while still incredible, had the ring of truth to it.

And then more remnants of more murdered people appeared, and then, sweet Merlin, Lily pulled herself out of the Dark Lord's wand, like she'd been in there all along. And then her husband followed. All of the specters spoke to Harry and the Dark Lord, but Severus couldn't hear what they were saying because Nott couldn't hear what they were saying.

And then Potter-the living one-yelled, broke the strange connection between the wands, and ran away in the ensuing confusion. There was a mad chase to catch him, but the way was blocked by Lily, and Potter-the dead one-and Cedric, and Bertha Jorkins (Bertha Jorkins? The Ravenclaw in Severus's Astronomy class back in third year? This was more and more like a bad dream) and another man Severus didn't recognize. And then the boy escaped by way of Portkey, taking the body of Diggory with him.

The Dark Lord was in a towering rage. He demanded secrecy from his Death Eaters, ordered them explicitly to return quickly when he called them next, and banished them from his sight.

* * *

Back in Dumbledore's office, the men were silent for a few moments.

Dumbledore finally spoke. "That was...worse than I had imagined."

Severus met his eyes, and Dumbledore explained, "Harry left out a few details."

Severus didn't speak. He didn't trust his voice. He excused himself from the Headmaster's office with a gesture, traveled down the spiral staircase and stepped out past the stone gargoyles. The hall was empty, and Severus indulged himself in his mood. His stomach was still clenched, but he understood now that it wasn't because of hunger. He leaned against the wall, covered his mouth and nose with both hands, and closed his eyes. He had just watched a child, alone against grown witches and wizards, be bound, gagged, tortured, mocked and humiliated; and even though the child had no hope, he had faced death the way Lily had: facing forward, chin up, and standing as tall as he could. The boy had no stupid bravado-that had all been on the side of the Dark Lord.

Lily's child. Lily would have been proud. Lily had been proud.

Severus shut off the thought. If a fucking fourteen-year-old boy could play the part of the hero with aplomb, then Severus Snape could damn well play his own part. He gathered himself and swooped off to his quarters.

* * *

It was several days later, at the Leaving Feast, when Severus next saw Potter. The boy looked terrible. He stared at Severus unabashedly. For the first time, Severus couldn't see any mischief behind the boy's eyes. In fact, he couldn't see anything behind the boy's eyes-his expression was flat. Severus looked away, but could feel the boy looking at him for long minutes afterwards.

Severus purposely ignored Potter through the Feast, until Dumbledore proposed a toast to Harry. Then he stood with most of the Hall (he did notice some of his own students remaining seated) and looked once again at the boy. Potter still seemed flat somehow, and oddly detached. His only expression was a small frown, which crossed his face so quickly Severus thought he might have imagined it.

When they all sat back down, Minerva reached for his hand under the table and gave it a small squeeze. Severus looked at her and nodded. "How is he?" he asked.

"Who?"

Severus just stared at her. He wouldn't clarify, and he certainly wouldn't repeat himself.

"I'm sorry, Severus, it's just odd that you would ask." She looked at the boy and sighed. "I suppose he's as well as he can be. I don't think it's hit him yet. When it does, it will be hard on him. And the timing could hardly be worse, with him about to return to his worthless relatives."

They both looked at the boy, and Severus remembered Petunia. For the first time, he thought about the fact that Lily's sister, who had hated Lily for being a witch, was raising a wizard child-was raising Lily's child-was raising Harry Potter.

Before he could stop himself, he said, "That's pretty fucked up," but Minerva didn't object.

"Hm," she said. "You know, Diggory was murdered right in front of him." He felt her turn to look at him, but he kept facing forward. "That's pretty fucked up," she explained.

"All these years," he started, but trailed off. Minerva waited him out. "I don't think I'd ever looked at him before." He stopped himself before he said too much. The timing of his epiphany could hardly have been worse. He'd managed to maintain unadulterated hatred for the boy throughout all those years of peace, and the moment the Dark Lord returned, Potter seemed to have suddenly grown another dimension.

Minerva turned to look at the boy. "He's just a child," she said, and Severus privately agreed.

(He'd known Minerva for twenty-three years, as his professor and as his colleague. He'd never heard her swear before.)


	2. Chapter 2

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _Sister don't you judge it  
Just keep it to yourself now  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

Before the students even left for the summer, Severus began plotting with Dumbledore about what information he could report to the Dark Lord. As the Dark Lord already knew that Potter was well-protected at his aunt's house, they both quickly agreed that Severus should convey that information. Dumbledore also decided that the Dursley house should be under constant surveillance by Order members, and that Severus should report this detail to the Dark Lord.

Severus didn't have to wait long for his summons. He was unsurprised to find the Dark Lord waiting for him alone in an isolated cottage.

"Severus. Sit with me. We have much to discuss."

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus said as he took a seat. He did not presume to sit back in the chair.

"Tell me what you know of Harry Potter's protections."

"I'm afraid that you might already know much of what I am to report. Harry Potter is very well protected indeed by his mother's blood-attacking him in Surrey is impossible. Dumbledore has even seen fit to appoint a round-the-clock guard to the house. The best news on this front is that there should only be one person guarding the boy at a time. However, as I said, a direct attack on his home is impossible."

"I thought as much, Severus. Thank you. Any plans on the boy will simply have to wait until he returns to Hogwarts."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Severus, there is one more bit of information I need-a piece of information that you are uniquely qualified to help me with."

"Oh?" Severus ruthlessly maintained his calm. He was ready for this. Whatever it was.

"You see, Severus, Harry Potter should not have survived the night of my return. There is no law, no magic, than can possibly account for his continued survival. I have been over the events of that night many times, and the only answer I can come up with-preposterous as it may sound-is that I don't yet have the answer. You might say that I am lacking critical information."

Well, shit, Severus thought. He's on about the goddamned prophecy.

But what he said out loud was, "If I can procure the information you require, you know that I will, my Lord."

"The prophecy, Severus. Remind me of its exact wording."

Severus hesitated slightly. If the Dark Lord were to decide that everything from his downfall to his botched return was the fault of a misreported prophecy...Severus feared that his career as a spy might be coming to a rather inglorious end.

But it was far too late for misgivings. Having nothing to lose, he closed his eyes and repeated: "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."

There was a ringing silence in the room. The Dark Lord finally broke it. "You remember the words quite well, Severus."

"I have tortured myself with it enough through the years, my Lord." And that was nothing but the bald truth.

The Dark Lord gave him an indulgent smile. "I have no wish to punish you for reporting what you knew, my half-blooded friend."

Severus did his damnedest not to flinch at the appellation-he had no idea what was meant by it.

The Dark Lord continued. "No, in fact, I recall that you were quite wary about me attacking the boy at the time-you said it would be prudent to wait for more information." He paused, and Severus dared not meet his eyes. "I am belatedly taking your advice, Severus. I assume Dumbledore has not shared any more of the prophecy with you?"

Severus shook his head slowly. "However," he began-almost sure that the Dark Lord already knew this-if Severus knew it, surely it was common knowledge to the well-informed. "My Lord, surely you have heard rumors of a Hall of Prophecy, deep in the Department of Mysteries?"

"I may have heard rumors. What do you know of it, Severus?"

Severus closed his eyes, trying to recall. What he'd heard was most likely baseless, as were most things one heard about the Department of Mysteries. He decided to use this. "Forgive me, my Lord, but most things one hears about the Department of Mysteries are fanciful stories told to the gullible. But there must be a kernel of truth in some of them." He opened his eyes. "There is a hall, in the Department of Mysteries, which stores every single prophecy made by every Seer. The prophecies are stored in glass jars, like memories. They are each clearly labeled by the Seer, the receiver, and the parties about whom the prophecy refers."

The Dark Lord nodded. "In the Department of Mysteries."

"The full prophecy must be there, my Lord."

* * *

Severus was able to take his leave of the Dark Lord's company soon after, and he reported to Dumbledore immediately.

"He's after the prophecy," he said without preamble.

Dumbledore nodded. "It is logical that he would want to know the full contents."

"I told him about the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries." As he said it, he felt a sudden stabbing fear: had he revealed too much to the Dark Lord? He'd had no choice-there was a good chance the Dark Lord already knew of the Hall of Prophecy, and had been testing Severus.

"Hm," the headmaster said, which Severus found woefully inadequate.

"Dumbledore, if such a place exists, tell me it is well-guarded-for that is where the Dark Lord is going to focus his energies."

"There are safeguards in place, of course. Though we could probably assign someone to watch the door to the Department of Mysteries."

Severus looked up sharply. "Headmaster-"

Dumbledore interrupted, "Of course we would not wish to anticipate him. Perhaps we should wait for Voldemort to make a move. His first attempt to breach the Ministry will doubtless fail, and after that, we could place a guard over the door."

This hardly comforted Severus.

"What troubles you, Severus?"

"Headmaster...the prophecy. Should the Dark Lord hear it in its entirety-"

"Doubtful, but go on."

"-would that be detrimental to the fight against him?"

The headmaster looked at him gravely. "The prophecy is worded like many prophecies; it is likely to be clear only after it has been fulfilled, if indeed it is ever fulfilled. However, it specifically contains references to living, and dying, and surviving, and Voldemort is wholly incapable of understanding which of those concepts are the same and which are different."

Severus usually made a point to show no reaction when the headmaster said something particularly abstruse, but at the moment, he was tired. He sighed. "So, what you're saying is...what, exactly?"

"Severus, if Voldemort could hear the prophecy in its entirety, I am confident he could still not predict the future."

Severus nodded, but it seemed the headmaster was holding back. He prompted, "However..."

"However, I think we can be confident that Voldemort will continue to make attempts on Harry's life, whether he hears the prophecy or not."

Severus closed his eyes. "Yes," he said.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Tell me, Headmaster. Does Potter know the full contents of the prophecy?"

Dumbledore hesitated for a few moments, and Severus felt his stomach drop, as the silence spoke eloquently of the headmaster's answer. Finally, Dumbledore said, "I'd rather Harry not even know of the prophecy's existence."

Severus stood. "Then you should reconsider. Keeping the prophecy from Potter doesn't protect him; it just keeps him from understanding why a madman wants to kill him."

He tried to make a dramatic exit but Dumbledore had sealed his door, which made Severus feel a bit stupid as he stood there jiggling the handle. "Severus, Harry is a little young yet to understand how living and dying are alike, and how living and surviving are different. I will tell him, but not yet. I will not justify my reasons further than that. You must trust that I will tell him when he's ready."

This disturbed Severus. He had never heard Dumbledore make excuses before.

* * *

Severus was not summoned to the Dark Lord's side again for a long while. Unfortunately, it was he who had to seek out the company of the Dark Lord.

It started with a Patronus from Dumbledore which simply said: "Harry is in trouble for the use of underage magic. I'm leaving for the ministry now. Be prepared for anything." Severus was at his potions lab at Hogwarts at the time, making a batch of bruise salve for the hospital wing. He quickly applied a Stasis Charm and went to find Minerva.

He was torn between hoping Potter had a good reason to use magic, and hoping that Potter was simply an idiot boy. He was in idiot boy either way-what possible need was there for him to perform magic while protected from external harm with elaborate wards and with an Order member nearby, keeping watch?

He found Minerva inside her office still seated at her desk, just as a silvery weasel arrived and spoke in Arthur Weasley's voice: "Harry used the Patronus Charm, evidently in front of his cousin. Dumbledore is here and we're getting more details." The weasel disappeared.

Minerva looked at Severus. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, then said, "Dumbledore received notice from the Ministry that Potter has been expelled. He's gone to sort it out."

"Can the Ministry expel a student?"

Minerva snorted and gave him a withering look. "Of course not. But they're likely rewriting the bylaws now."

"Who was guarding Potter tonight?"

"Mundungus."

"Shit," he said before he could stop himself, but Minerva didn't even blink. He continued, "Well, what does Mundungus say happened?"

"Arabella says he wasn't even there."

"Shit," he said again. It flowed more evenly this time. "Tell me: why would Potter need to cast the Patronus Charm in his own home?"

"He wasn't at the house, Severus. He was just down the block."

"SHIT. He left the HOUSE?"

Minerva leapt up from her seat and came at Severus. "Yes, he left his house, Severus Snape, because he cannot spend every single day and night inside that worthless house with those worthless Muggles!"

Severus had backed up a step, but refused to back up farther. He leaned in to Minerva's space. "Has anyone thought to TELL the Boy Who Lived that the best way for him to continue to live is to STAY INSIDE HIS HOUSE?"

Minerva drew herself up, just as the Floo flared and brought a note from Sirius Black. They read it together: "I've just told Harry that he mustn't leave the house, and I found out that Arthur has already sent him the same message. He shouldn't be leaving again."

Minerva crumpled the note and threw it at Severus, who ignored the gesture. She sat back down behind her desk and he continued with his questions. "Why did he use a Patronus Charm?"

"Arabella says it was dementors."

"Dementors." Severus finally sat down in a straight-backed chair in front of Minerva's desk. "Dementors, as in more than one dementor?"

"She said there were two," she said, without meeting his eyes.

"At least..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "At least he had a good reason."

Minerva laughed without humor just as a silver phoenix swept into the room. Dumbledore's voice informed them, "Harry is not expelled; he will instead face a ministry hearing later this month. He will be staying with his relatives until it is practical to retrieve him."

Severus leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. His stomach was clenching up again. He didn't mistake it for hunger this time. "Shit," he said. He raised his head and looked Minerva in the eye. "Shit," he said again, for lack of anything better to say. The child-the idiot child-had been able to produce a Patronus well enough to repel two dementors, after having just barely survived the nightmare experience in the graveyard a month before. Severus couldn't think of many grown wizards who could do as much. He lowered his head back into his hands.

He could probably produce a Patronus right now, even though his last couple of months had been pretty bad-what with his insane former master returning to corporeal form and all. But he was an adult, and moreover, he wasn't willing to test his abilities against a dementor-let alone two of them.

It had been three years after Lily died before he could produce a Patronus at all.

He was startled by the sound of breaking china on the stone walls, and looked at Minerva in confusion. "I've always hated that teacup," she explained levelly. She picked up a saucer and said, "This saucer, too," and flung it against the wall, smashing it to bits.

Severus stared at the wall where the saucer had hit. "I have to report to the Dark Lord," he said.

"I know."

"I must see what he knows of this."

"I know."

She picked up the sugar bowl and threw that, too. It exploded against the stone wall, producing a satisfactory puff of sugar. She sighed.

"Did you also hate the sugar bowl?" he asked.

"No," she said sadly. "I actually rather liked it."

"Minerva...if the Dark Lord planned this...I honestly had no idea of it."

She looked at him for a long moment. "I never doubted that, Severus."

He didn't suppose she did. She was Gryffindor.

* * *

So Severus had to seek out the Dark Lord's company, and approach him with proper amounts of glee, approval, and just a little bit of confusion at being left out of the plot. But Severus needn't have prepared himself so well; the Dark Lord knew nothing of the dementors. None of the Death Eaters knew either.

So he retired to his home in Spinner's End, more confused than when he left Hogwarts. He spent the evening looking through his mother's old books, idly looking up Monitoring Charms. Most such charms were used by parents on young children. He wondered if Lily placed one on Potter. If so, the charm would have died with her.

He found several different charms that might work for Potter: some would alert the caster if the object were in mortal peril (though Severus imagined that charm would be bad for his mental health); some were designed to detect pain (this one would be even worse). One promising charm allowed a parent to determine the location of his child at will. Severus imagined all of the situations this would help with Potter. Then he started to think of all the possible applications of the charm, and felt a few moments of panic. Reading over the casting notes, he realized that only a blood relative-more specifically, a parent-could ever hope to cast the charm. The magic could not be modified to operate outside of the parent-child relationship, which was a great relief to the spy.

The next morning, he realized the implications of his research and cursed himself a fool. Even if he knew Potter's life was in danger, he certainly wouldn't be one to rush in to save the idiot child. The boy already had more than his share of defenders and pseudo-parents: Dumbledore, Minerva, the Weasleys. His duty was only to clean up the messes left when everyone else had failed.


	3. Chapter 3

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _Got bitten by the bitter bug  
and I just can't get enough  
of ill will and my own conceit  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

When the school year started, Severus found it quite easy to slip back into his usual pattern of publicly degrading the boy. Indeed, his protective feelings toward the boy quite evaporated when in direct contact with the infuriating child. Potter was mediocre at his studies, easily distracted, and had a mercurial temper. Severus watched him at mealtimes, when he would often bicker with his friends and leave early, barely touching his food. After one such occasion, Severus spoke with Minerva, seated beside him in her usual spot. "How is he?" he asked her.

She didn't ask for clarification this time. "He is bitterly angry and quietly resigned in turns, Severus. How is he in your class?"

"Mainly quietly resigned."

"Hmph. Maybe you should count yourself lucky. He seems to save his bitter anger for Umbridge's class."

"Is that so," he commented, disinterested, but Minerva was fired up.

"Do you know that she has given him detention for the past two weeks, every night? Detention starts immediately after dinner, and the Fat Lady tells me that he doesn't get back to Gryffindor Tower until well after midnight. Every single night, Monday through Friday."

That did explain the state of the boy's homework. It had been terrible, even by Potter's usual standards. "Do you know what she's having him do?"

"Lines, he says."

"'He says'? Then you don't believe him?"

She huffed. "My students generally don't have the talent for lies that your Slytherins have, Severus. There's a tell-tale pause. 'What are you doing in detention, Potter?' '...Lines.' The pause, Severus."

"Have you asked the portraits to look in?"

She scowled at him. "That...woman is all over paranoid. There are no portraits in her office."

Well, Severus didn't allow portraits in his office, either, and of all his colleagues, only Filius had a portrait in his office, most likely under heavy charms. But sometimes the new teachers didn't know better.

He said, "Well, we can take comfort that he doesn't seem to have procured any broken bones, unexplained bruising, or any other obvious disfigurements."

"Has he not, Severus?" she asked in a dangerous tone. "Haven't you noticed the bandage on his hand?" She stood and left the table quite abruptly.

He hadn't noticed the bandage.

He did notice it during the boy's next Potions class. Potter was quietly resigned, as Minerva had said, his eyes downcast throughout class, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. But he slightly favored his bandaged hand, and he hissed under his breath when he accidentally banged it on the table.

After class, Severus consulted more books on Monitoring Charms, and began to think that perhaps he could modify and merge two existing charms, one for location and one for danger, so that he could know Potter's exact location every time his life was threatened. He even started jotting down ideas for the new spell, until he realized: this was the reckless Harry Potter, hunted by the Dark Lord and all his followers. Severus crumpled the parchment and threw it away. He stared at his empty desk for a while, then began to look up Eavesdropping Charms. Most of these were quite limited by distance and time, but Severus was sure he could modify them easily to suit his purposes.

A few nights later at dinner, as Potter stood up early to leave for his nightly detention, Severus surreptitiously cast his modified Eavesdropping Charm on the boy. But when the the boy reached Umbridge's office, Severus was highly disappointed in what he overheard:

"Good evening, Potter."

"Good evening, Professor."

And then nothing, save for the constant quiet scratching of a quill. For four and a half hours. Then finally, "That's enough for the night, Potter."

Severus was bewildered. But if Minerva thought something was amiss, he wasn't willing to overlook her instincts despite all evidence to the contrary. When he overheard Potter leaving Umbridge's office, he hurried up the stairs from his own office and knocked on the hated woman's door. She bade him to come in, and he quickly said, "Forgive the intrusion, Dolores. I was just patrolling the halls, and found Harry Potter out of bed. He...claims he was in detention with you. I felt it would be best to check his story."

She smiled at him sweetly and with slight regret. "Well, I'm sorry to contradict his story, Severus, but Mr. Potter left my detention at ten o'clock."

Severus smiled back. "I suspected as much. Thank you for your time."

He let himself out and shut the door behind him. He stopped and took a deep breath. There had been blood on the writing desk.

He had no idea what it all meant.

He walked away from Umbridge's office, but didn't get very far before he heard Granger's voice: "Here, soak your hand in that. It's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles. It should help."

"Thanks," Potter said, and Severus thought that finally he might get some answers. Essence of murtlap? Blood on the desk? A bandaged hand? It made no sense, but evidently the boy had told his friends what was going on.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," Weasley said.

"No," Potter replied, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew."

"Yeah, she probably would. And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

It seemed that Potter was only able to apply logic when it wasn't in his best interest to do so. He had no sense of self-preservation.

Severus continued to listen as they plotted their teenage revenge against Umbridge, but they didn't once mention her specific crimes. When Weasley began to congratulate Potter on his reckless rule-breaking, Severus prepared to cancel the spell. He couldn't bear to hear blind luck praised as a virtue. But then Potter spoke, and he seemed to feel the same way as Severus.

"That was luck," Potter interrupted. "That wasn't skill." And then later, "That was a fluke," and then, clearly agitated, the boy yelled, "I didn't get through any of it because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because-because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right-but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing!" There was the sound of breaking glass.

Severus snorted. He would have never guessed that Potter was even a little bit self-aware. But as he continued to eavesdrop, he found that Potter also had a hefty case of survivor's guilt. "You two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up-you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me-"

Severus quickly canceled the spell before he could hear any more, but it was too late. His stomach had already clenched up the way it had when he watched the scene in the graveyard. He'd listened to too much, and not discovered anything about the boy's detentions.

* * *

Draco and the other children of Death Eaters gave Severus no cause for concern, which was a cause for concern in Slytherin House. Severus hoped he worried for no reason-perhaps the parents really were leaving their children out of the fight for the time being. No one seemed unduly concerned with Potter, and better yet, no one seemed to be unduly unconcerned with Potter. This meant one of two things: either the Dark Lord was too proud to use children to capture a child he intended to kill; or the Dark Lord was unsure he would be able to kill the child. His obsession with the prophecy certainly made the latter scenario more likely.

In private moments, Severus wondered if the full contents of the prophecy would be hugely embarrassing to the Dark Lord: perhaps there was mention of the worthier opponent always being victorious? Or perhaps the prophecy predicted a perfectly level playing field-a fifty-fifty shot at victory, and the Dark Lord had already gambled and lost twice.

Dumbledore had mentioned living, dying, and surviving, and Severus was shrewd enough to surmise that the prophecy was not specific as to who did what. Living and dying were the same, the headmaster said. And living and surviving were different.

Lily died. Severus survived. Lily had lived. He wasn't sure if he ever had.

* * *

Severus spent the rest of the term ignoring Harry Potter, which was his preferred mode of existence. Therefore he was somewhat irritated when a full Order meeting was called to discuss the boy's plans for Christmas. There were other items on the agenda of course, but Potter's holiday plans certainly took up the bulk of the meeting. Arthur and Molly Weasley strongly insisted that Potter be allowed to go to their home for the holidays; Sirius wanted the boy to stay with him; but Minerva and Dumbledore were resistant to either option.

"He would be safer at Hogwarts," Minerva said.

"But he would be happier in our home," Molly insisted. "We can put up extra wards!"

Severus resisted the urge to put his head down on the table. And bang it.

"Grimmauld Place is as safe as Hogwarts, and I'm sure Harry would love it here," Sirius argued.

Molly shot back, "You mean YOU'D love to have him here, for your own selfish reasons! He couldn't have a very happy Christmas is this musty old place!"

Dedalus Diggle asked, "Why doesn't he go back to his relatives? He's safe there, after all."

After the slightest pause, the conversation carried on as if Dedalus hadn't spoken. In the end, the Weasleys prevailed, and Dumbledore agreed to set up extra wards on the Burrow.

Minerva caught Severus's eye on the way out of the meeting. "Oh, I suppose you're going to argue that a full Order meeting is not necessary to hammer out the details of Potter's Christmas holiday," she said good-naturedly.

He grunted in reply, and she laughed at him.

"You know who would agree with you, Severus Snape?" She paused, as if waiting for him to guess, but then wisely answered her own question. "Harry Potter."

"Minerva, I spend as little time as possible pondering the minds of teenagers, but I do get the vague impression that if you told any one of them that a group of teachers and other assorted adults were discussing their future, he or she would be properly mortified. I hardly think this makes Harry Potter special."

Inexplicably, she grinned, grabbed his arm and walked beside him. "There's the Severus Snape I've been missing. For a while, I was worried you'd gone soft."

* * *

Weeks later, the Order's plans came to naught. Early in the morning on the last day before Christmas holidays, Severus was summoned to the headmaster's office.

"Ah, Severus. Do come in. Would you like some tea, perhaps?"

"No thank you, Headmaster."

"Very well. Close the door, please, and have a seat."

Severus contrarily stood in front of Dumbledore's desk, but the old man didn't react to his rebellion. "Severus, something happened last night...something that was quite inevitable. Still, it forces our hand a bit."

"Headmaster?"

"Arthur Weasley was on guard duty at the Ministry last night. He was attacked by Voldemort's snake. He will make a full recovery-Harry was able to alert us of the attack almost immediately."

"Harry...Potter."

"Yes, Severus. It appears there is a-connection between his mind and Voldemort's. And last night, Voldemort became aware of the link, and that the connection is likely to work both ways."

Severus suddenly knew that he wouldn't like Dumbledore's reason for telling him this.

"So," the headmaster said lightly, "the Weasleys and Harry Potter will be absent from classes today."

"Where did you send them?"

"To headquarters. It was the safest."

"Safest. Just so I understand, Harry Potter shares the Dark Lord's thoughts?"

"And Lord Voldemort now knows he can share Harry Potter's thoughts."

"Yes, good, then I did understand. So why is Potter at headquarters again?"

"Because it is the best place for Harry."

"Oh, of course, I see," Severus said, and finally flung himself into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Both men fell silent. Severus wanted to argue the point-letting Voldemort see the secret headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was madness, surely Dumbledore knew that-but Dumbledore's simple answer prevented any arguments. Severus decided to get to the heart of the matter. "Why have you told me this?"

"Because it is suddenly important that Harry learn that there are some things he must not share. Not with Voldemort." Dumbledore nodded, and Severus seethed. He knew what Dumbledore was hinting at, and was angry at the man for not coming right out and saying it.

"You want him to learn Occlumency."

"Yes, I do."

"Again, why am I here?"

"I should think it's obvious that I cannot be the one to teach the boy."

Severus gritted his teeth. "Headmaster...surely you realize that I-of all people-I cannot be the one to teach him."

"Severus, Voldemort already knows of Harry's vulnerability. I am perfectly content if he is also aware that I know of his vulnerability. By all means, tell Tom that I have asked this of you. If you wish, tell him that I insisted, that I made it a condition on your employment. You must do this, Severus."

Severus stared at him. "Just so that we're clear: You want me, Severus Snape, to teach Occlumency to Harry Potter-Potter!-a skill which requires absolute mental control-to Potter!-and, should I actually succeed, it will directly oppose a madman who thinks I'm on his side." Severus covered his face with his hand.

"That's about the short of it, yes."

Severus stood abruptly and looked at Dumbledore. "If that's all, then?"

"You must start at the beginning of next term. You may, of course, borrow my Pensieve. And if you'll please visit Grimmauld Place to let Harry know the plan."

"Certainly, certainly. It will be my pleasure. Now, if you'll excuse me-" and he fled Dumbledore's office. His heart was thumping madly-he wanted to scream and punch and break things and hex people. He numbly walked down the empty halls to his own office, where he closed the door, sat down at his desk, and buried his face in his hands.

At the moment, he really, really hated Albus Dumbledore.


	4. Chapter 4

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _I'm weary of the world-  
weary of the world it seems  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

Informing the Dark Lord of Potter's impending Occlumency lessons was a simple matter. All he had to do was tell the absolute truth: Dumbledore suspected a Legilimic connection between the Dark Lord and Potter, and had ordered Severus to teach the boy Occlumency. Severus assured the Dark Lord that Dumbledore's plan would undoubtedly fail because the boy could never learn such a delicate skill. During the whole interview, Severus suffered the Cruciatus Curse twice, and that was probably only because the Dark Lord was still annoyed at his own recent failure to enter the Department of Mysteries.

Informing Potter was far more excruciating. The boy's worthless godfather insisted on being present, and predictably blamed Severus as if the whole thing were his idea. But before they could come to blows, the entire Weasley Clan walked in on the interview, catching them out like errant schoolboys-appropriate in Black's case, but that did little to ease Severus's own mortification. Later that night, when the scene replayed in his head unbidden-before he could bury it deep down-it occurred to him that Potter hadn't acted like _Potter_. No, the boy had tried to stop them both from fighting, launching himself between two grown men who were determined to hex each other. Nothing like _Potter_ at all. No, the boy had acted like Lily.

Severus hastily buried the thought deeper than even he thought possible.

* * *

Potter's first lesson was both surprising and not surprising at all. The boy was attentive and eager for information-a surprise-but he was rude to Severus, and liked to wallow in his sad, sad past-not a surprise. But the intense loneliness that had radiated from Potter-the vulnerability-was most unpleasant. The naked emotions displayed by the boy-the guilt and pain of every memory, no matter how old-were raw enough to stagger Severus.

Even so, some memories were worse than others. Like Diggory's dead eyes in the graveyard.

With a mind like that, the boy could never Occlude. Severus was surprised Potter could focus enough to push him out by brute force.

Still, the most disturbing thing Severus saw that night was the one memory that seemed inconsequential at first. He had been sifting through Potter's messy mind, hopping from thought to thought since the boy couldn't seem to hold onto anything for long, when suddenly, Potter latched onto a memory. It was mundane to the extreme, if such a thing were possible-the boy was hurrying down a corridor with Arthur Weasley, clearly late for something. Severus tried to move on, but Potter wouldn't let go, and forced Severus to watch him run down the entire length of the corridor, towards a plain door at the end of it. He did not precisely recognize the place, but he thought he might have been there before. Why did Potter follow the thread of this memory? Suddenly, Arthur turned a sharp corner and dragged the boy with him. At this moment, Potter shouted at the top of his lungs, "I KNOW! I KNOW!"

Severus was so startled that he broke the Legilimens spell. Potter pushed himself up to a standing position and looked at Severus with eyes wide from realization.

"What happened then, Potter?"

"I saw...I remembered...I've just realized..."

"Realized what?" Severus had no patience for this. If the Dark Lord got stuck in a rut in Potter's mind, and if Potter was then able to disrupt the Dark Lord's concentration by shouting out a non sequitur, then maybe this was progress. Otherwise, the boy was wasting his time.

The boy did not answer Severus's question. Instead, he stood there rubbing his scar. He was wrapped up in his private thoughts, and Severus's presence did nothing to unsettle him.

That scar. The boy continued to press his fingers to his forehead. Severus waited for Potter's response, but for now the only sound was the boy's panting.

The moment began to unnerve him. Why was Potter's scar bothering him? Where was that corridor? When had Severus seen it before? It was vaguely familiar. It was not Hogwarts, he knew that. Where else would Potter be walking down a windowless corridor with Arthur Weasley? It was recent-this summer, perhaps. The hearing? Surely not...?

Potter looked up abruptly. "What's in the Department of Mysteries?"

And in that moment, Severus knew. He didn't even need Potter to elaborate. Potter knew because the Dark Lord knew. That corridor led to the Department of Mysteries and the prophecy.

The situation was much, much worse than even the headmaster knew.

* * *

But when Severus reported the incident to him, Dumbledore was unperturbed. In fact, all he said was, "Thank you."

Severus sighed. "I'm sure you understand that Potter knows that the Dark Lord wants something from the Department of Mysteries. He also saw Arthur Weasley attacked in that very corridor."

"Yes, I'm sure that Harry has put that together."

"Yes, and I'm sure we don't need to rehash Potter's history," Severus said, but Dumbledore remained calm, which predictably made Severus angry, which made him angrier because he was sure Dumbledore did it on purpose. "The fucking place is called the Department of Fucking Mysteries, and if that's not waving a red fucking flag in front of a FUCKING bull, I don't fucking know what is."

But all Dumbledore said was, "The name of the department does not put a mind like Harry's at ease, no."

"Consider this, Dumbledore: the boy dreams of the Department of Mysteries regularly, because the Dark Lord is obsessed with a prophecy of which you WISH THE BOY TO REMAIN IGNORANT!" Severus ended on a roar, and was satisfied that Dumbledore at least looked tired.

"Severus, I understand the implications, thank you. But I must follow the path I have deemed best."

Severus saw red and felt a headache spike behind his eye. Suddenly detached from himself, he recognized his anger and became immediately bored by it. He wondered how bad the prophecy could possibly be. It had already destroyed everything he ever loved, and he didn't know the half of it.

* * *

And then ten Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban.

Severus found out about it from the _Daily Prophet_ , along with everyone else. Minerva, sitting aside him at breakfast, looked up at him sharply as she read the news, and he met her eye with a rush of irritation. "If there was a party about this last night, I was not invited," he sniped at her. "It's a shame-the Dark Lord usually serves the best hors d'oeuvres." He folded his newspaper a bit more snappishly than necessary.

"Those little mini quiches?" she asked.

He darted a glance toward her, but she didn't blink. "And pigs in a blanket," he said.

Her face suddenly became serious. "Severus-I-"

"Don't," he commanded, and rose from the table and left the Great Hall.

Fuck all, fuck it all. He had one job, and he had failed it. He needed to go to the Dark Lord's side, scrape together whatever miserable bits of information he could to salvage his position with the Order; but first, he had to teach Potions to masses of worthless teenagers.

He contained himself quite well that day, only exploding at a handful of students, only two of whom burst into tears, and only one of whom ran out of the classroom and didn't return. (Greta Fawcett, seventh year Ravenclaw, whose older sister was murdered in front of her when she was four years old, murdered by Damien Lockwood, one of the recently escaped Death Eaters, of course-but Fawcett deserved to be yelled at-she nearly added too many dragon scales to her potion, which would have released toxic fumes and likely killed them all; Nancy Woods, fourth year Hufflepuff, who grew up with her Muggle father because her mother had been killed by her own brother, Rabastan Lestrange, because she had dared to breed outside the approved bloodlines-but Woods had been stirring her potion so vigorously-likely due to her shaking hands-that the potion began to smoke-effusively-so much that it took Severus several seconds and multiple air-cleaning charms to even determine whose cauldron was to blame; and finally, at the end of the day there was Neil Avery, second year Slytherin, whose father enjoyed artificial rank with the Dark Lord simply because there was no one else to do the jobs he did, and now that the others had escaped Azkaban, his father was likely to return to his status as a punching bag and scapegoat-but Avery was guilty of the oldest mistake in the book-burning his fire too hot-which ran the risk of blowing up all the dungeons and likely bringing down the castle. Avery was the one to run away without returning-a proper Slytherin maneuver, and Severus couldn't help but approve.)

As soon as his last class dismissed (Avery's friend packing away two bags and hoisting them both over his shoulder, without a glance at his glaring teacher), Severus went directly to the headmaster's office to inform him of his departure.

"I understand, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Don't blame yourself. It is Cornelius who refused to acknowledge the threat posed by the dementors."

"I do not require you to make excuses on my behalf, Headmaster. I simply wished you to be aware that I will be unavailable tonight."

"By all means, find out all you can about recent developments-"

"'Recent developments'?"

"-but I wouldn't be surprised if there is nothing to find."

Severus snorted inelegantly. "Spies trade in information, in case you need to be reminded. If I am blindsided by 'recent developments' then it's possible I've outlived my usefulness." And there it was, the ugly, naked truth laid out before him. He had one reason for living in this castle-one reason for living at all, and he was failing at it.

Severus pushed it down, down-as if his life depended on it; as if this debacle could still be salvaged.

"Severus-" Dumbledore began, but Severus had suddenly reached his limit.

"I will be taking my leave now. If all goes well, I shall report back to you tonight." And he left without being dismissed.

But Severus could not find the Dark Lord, and instead found himself trading false pleasantries with Lucius Malfoy, who did not admit to being caught unawares by the mass breakout, but was tense enough to be read easily.

As Severus readied to depart, Lucius asked-almost nonchalantly-almost as if it had just occurred to him-"You've been unfortunate enough to spend time with my wife's cousin, I understand?"

Severus smiled unpleasantly while he mentally unraveled the truth and the lies and formulated a response. Pettigrew knew of Black, so the Dark Lord knew of Black, so Lucius knew of Black, and everyone knew that Severus spent time with Dumbledore who spent time with Black.

Good, so his response could be entirely true. "I have had the misfortune of spending time with that unbalanced, flea-ridden dog of a human being, yes."

Lucius laughed falsely. "Yes, unbalanced. I'm sure it did his psyche no good to be locked up with dementors for so long."

Severus suddenly knew what Lucius was driving at. He wasn't concerned with Narcissa's cousin; he was concerned with her sister. Severus decided he wouldn't take the lead, but couldn't resist taunting Lucius. "Yes, well, I was never convinced that Black was all that balanced to begin with."

Lucius smiled tightly, and did not look comforted. As well he shouldn't be-Bellatrix had never been all that balanced either.

But at least Severus was able to report to Dumbledore that Lucius had known nothing of the breakouts. It wasn't much, but it was something.

* * *

As the weeks dragged on, Potter made no progress in Occlumency. He seemed content to allow Severus access to his entire memory. And Potter had some very disturbing recent memories.

Like Cedric Diggory dead in the graveyard.

It wasn't as if such a sight would normally upset Severus. He had seen enough death. But seeing death through Potter's eyes was like sticking one's hand in fire. There was pain, and anguish, and guilt, and it was singularly unpleasant. The boy might like to wallow, but Severus did not enjoy wallowing with him.

He tried to find a memory of the boy's detentions with Dolores Umbridge, but Potter's mind was far too scattered to find anything as specific as that. So Severus did his best to focus on memories from Potter's early childhood, but even those memories were...odd.

Had Severus ever allowed himself to imagine being a wizard child raised by Petunia Evans, he would have imagined most of Potter's past-the function, if not the actual form. But he had never been keen on the details. And now he had open access to all of them.

And if Potter's past wasn't disturbing enough, his current attitude was one of needless martyrdom. It wasn't that Potter would never learn to Occlude-it was that Potter didn't even attempt to do what Severus asked of him. He just showed up, on time, once a week, simply for the privilege of having his mind raped. It frustrated Severus to no end.

After several unproductive weeks of tutelage, Minerva nudged him gently at the dinner table. "How is he?" she asked.

For a moment, he was tempted to feign ignorance, but with the staff under constant scrutiny by Dolores Umbridge, it wasn't wise to force people into using names. So instead he said, "I assume you are referring to Remedial Potions."

"Indeed," she said.

"He is performing deplorably, and I have no hope for improvement."

"Is he the problem, or is it you?"

He glared at her, but she didn't back down.

"Let me rephrase," she said. "I understand the personality conflict, Severus, and I don't expect that to change. But I am his Head of House. Is there something he should be doing that would help, that I could encourage him in?"

He would sooner expect the sun to rise in the west. Or that Vincent Crabbe would wake up one day and have the power to control the tides. But still, he considered her question, because if the boy could actually learn to Occlude, it would solve quite a big problem.

So he said, "Minerva...did you ever learn Remedial Potions?"

She snorted. "Albus tried to teach me once. I made an honest go of it-but after six months, we both agreed that I was hopeless."

"It's the same with the boy. Encouragement is irrelevant. It's possible there are other methods for...brewing Remedial Potions, but he will never succeed using mine."

She nodded, but still studied him carefully. She clearly had something else she wanted to ask and he was in no mood to draw her out. Finally, she said, "You've seen his memories."

He made no reply.

"I've always been...concerned...about the Muggles he lives with."

Again, he didn't feel like her comment warranted a response.

"Siri-" she began, but caught herself before she said the name. "His godfather," she began again carefully, "has been lobbying very strongly for custody. I...find him...unbalanced. I don't think he'd be an ideal guardian-but I can't help wondering...if he wouldn't be...better."

Severus snorted. "I refuse to take part any custody battle involving the boy."

But his comment only made her blunt. "Tell me, Severus: how bad is his home?"

He thought about his response. He'd seen things about Potter's Muggle relatives that had disturbed him, but he honestly didn't think that Minerva would be bothered by the same things Severus was. No, Minerva would be bothered by a different thing entirely, and Potter was probably bothered by another thing still.

He blinked at Minerva, and finally shrugged. "I've seen worse. He hates them for his own reasons, but you and I may...see things differently." He paused, and she waited for him to continue. "Potter hates them because he has to keep going back to them. I find fault with them because they punish him for his magic."

He paused again, and she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Why would I object to them?"

He looked her right in the eye. "Because they never loved him."

She nodded, tightly, as if she'd expected as much.

He said, "His godfather, though, will never see the boy as anything other than his father."

"A common enough affliction, I'm afraid."

The reason Severus liked Minerva was because she could say something like that without directing the reprimand solely at himself. He still felt reprimanded, though-probably more keenly than if she had meant to fire it directly at him.

* * *

It was no great shock when, a few weeks later, Severus fell back into Potter's memory of Cedric Diggory dead in the graveyard. It was a common mental pathway. This time, Severus was prepared for it; Potter was not. The latter had collapsed to the floor, screaming, but Severus ruthlessly clung to the memory. If the boy insisted on hanging on to his emotions, Severus was going to make him feel every one acutely. He forced Potter to watch as Wormtail tied him to the gravestone. Potter struggled feebly, both in the memory against Wormtail and in his mind against Severus. Severus would not let go.

The memory continued. Potter muttered "no" repeatedly, but offered no other resistance as the memory progressed and Wormtail dragged in an oversized cauldron. But when Wormtail reached down to pick up something, Potter finally fought back against Severus. Exactly what he did, Severus couldn't say, but it knocked Severus flat on his back. Disoriented, he pushed himself up and looked around.

James Potter stood before him, looking fierce.

Severus blinked.

Harry Potter stood before him, looking fierce. Severus set his jaw and turned to look for his wand. He found it by the shelves.

Potter broke the silence. "Don't do that again."

"Is that going to be your defense against the Dark Lord? Telling him what he can and can't do? It's a pity the rest of us didn't try that sooner."

The boy's knuckles were white around his wand. "Just-don't go there again."

"Then don't take me there again." He stared hard at the boy. "Potter, you are making yourself weak with these memories. You must clear them from your mind. You must be in control."

Potter looked back with eyes narrowed in scorn. "But I stopped you."

Without warning, Severus pointed his wand at Harry. "Legilimens!"

Severus was certain there was only one memory he could possibly find, so that the dead eyes of Cedric Diggory were no surprise to him. But Potter screamed, still unprepared for the visions in his own head.

Severus broke the spell immediately. Potter, who had once again fallen to his knees, remained there with his head buried in his hands. Severus said, "You are still not in control here. Dumb luck will not win you every battle, Potter, and if you rely on it you will fail eventually." He leaned in and hissed into Potter's face, still covered with his hands. "I think you know that already."


	5. Chapter 5

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _I'm just a little bit off these days  
_ -:-:-:-:-:-

It had been almost two months since the mass breakout from Azkaban, and Severus still received no summons from the Dark Lord. He had been growing more and more irritable, but either no one noticed or no one commented on it. In late February, when an issue of the Quibbler came out with an exclusive interview with Harry Potter (written by Rita Skeeter), Severus read the whole article in the loo during his off period. He was astonished that Skeeter hadn't added any of her artistic embellishments-the story in the magazine matched closely with what he had seen in Nott's memories and in Potter's head.

There was one detail he hadn't known: the last words Diggory ever heard were "Kill the spare."

Severus didn't know how Harry Potter was able to function in society without the aid of Occlumency. By all rights, the boy should be a gibbering lunatic.

* * *

When Severus finally felt his Mark burn, the summons came as a relief. He was somewhat surprised to find himself summoned to Malfoy Manor, but he reasoned that it was easier to hide ten escaped convicts there. When he Apparated to the Manor, Bellatrix met him at the gate and escorted him inside with glee bordering on mania. Or perhaps it was mania bordering on glee-one could never tell with Bellatrix. She led him into a dark, curtained room, lit only by a single branch of candles. The room was sparsely furnished, and the Dark Lord stood behind one of two chairs.

"Severus," he said.

"My Lord," Severus said, bowing.

"I trust you've already heard that I've been reunited with some old friends recently?"

"I was most pleased to read about it, my Lord. Bellatrix herself ushered me in."

The Dark Lord grinned widely; the effect was unsettling on the snake-like face. "Yes, Bellatrix was always very loyal. As are the others. And they've been a surprising source of information."

He didn't expect that, but he kept his expression neutral. "Information, my Lord?"

"Yes, Severus-never believe you are my only source for it."

"Never, my Lord."

"Tell me, Severus: how is Harry Potter's Occlumency progressing?"

"Not at all, my Lord. His mind remains completely open."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Kneel, Severus. I have a task to bestow on you."

Severus knelt, carefully keeping his face and mind blank.

"I wish for you to brew me Polyjuice Potion," the Dark Lord said.

Even with a blank mind, Severus's breathing stumbled a bit. He kept his head down as he answered. "Polyjuice is simple enough to make, and if my Lord wishes it, I will make it-happily-but it takes a full lunar cycle to brew."

The Dark Lord seemed pleased. "Wonderful, wonderful. You'll see."

* * *

Severus told Dumbledore about the Polyjuice, but admitted that he had no idea what it would be used for. Dumbledore assured him that after the Barty Crouch, Jr. debacle, the castle's wards had been improved to reveal Polyjuiced individuals. So, with no other choice in the matter, Severus returned to his private quarters and began to brew the potion.

As he lined up the necessary ingredients, he idly considered alerting Potter to what he was doing. But the boy was nowhere near subtle enough to understand a sentence more vague than "BE AWARE THAT I AM BREWING POLYJUICE FOR THE DARK LORD."

He idly considered telling Harry Potter exactly that.

* * *

The next night, Severus had another Occlumency lesson with Potter. On his very first foray into the boy's mind, he found a memory of a curtained room with two chairs, lit only by a single branch of candles. The Dark Lord stood behind a chair and a man knelt on the floor with his head bowed.

Severus's breath caught-what the fuck was going on here?-but he stuck with the memory. To his great relief, the kneeling man was not him, but Augustus Rookwood.

Augustus Rookwood, Severus thought-the same Augustus Rookwood who was once an Unspeakable-delivering information to the Dark Lord.

Shit.

Potter, of course, could not explain himself, and Severus spent a few moments worried what else Potter had seen in his dreams. "How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?" he asked.

"Just that one," the boy replied, which was surely a lie.

Minerva was right-Potter was a terrible liar even at the best of times, and his lies became more transparent the angrier he got. Luckily, he was easily provoked into anger.

"Perhaps," he said silkily, "perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special-important?"

The boy's whole body tensed. Good. "No, they don't," he said stiffly.

"That is just as well, Potter, because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."

"No-that's your job, isn't it?" As the boy said it, he looked directly at Severus. He looked scared-scared he had said too much, scared he had guessed wrong.

For it had been a guess. Severus relaxed. The boy had not seen his own meeting with the Dark Lord-he was far too artless to conceal something like that. He was far to artless to conceal anything, full stop.

But what did Rookwood know about the Department of Mysteries-about the Hall of Prophecy, in particular? What did this have to do with the Polyjuice Severus was brewing even now?

And why was Severus averse to the idea that Potter may have seen his meeting with the Dark Lord, anyway? It would be humiliating for the boy to see Severus abasing himself before a madman, but it would solve the problem of informing Potter of the Polyjuice.

Severus was so distracted that the next time he cast _Legilimens_ , he accidentally let the boy slip past his own mental defenses-a ridiculous mistake, but thankfully harmless. All his incriminating memories were still stored in the Pensieve.

But then the lesson turned into a pure nightmare-the next time he fell into Potter's mind, Potter fell into the Dark Lord's. The Dark Lord was running down the corridor towards the Department of Mysteries-with Potter tagging right along with him-and Severus tagging right along with _him_. Severus was badly disoriented, because it wasn't a Legilimic attack on Potter; it was a Legilimic attack on the Dark Lord-and Potter was actively continuing it. With an effort, Severus wrenched himself from the boy's mind, but he could think of no magical means of removing the boy from the Dark Lord's.

Fuck. He'd wasted most of a term trying to teach a difficult skill to a boy he hated, who had neither the aptitude for it nor the desire to learn it-and even if he'd succeeded, the effort would have been futile. The boy didn't need to Occlude; the fucking _Dark Lord_ did.

And fuck Dumbledore, too, for probably knowing all along-that's why he wasn't bothered that Potter wasn't making progress, and why he didn't mind telling the Dark Lord about the plans to teach the boy Occlumency-it was a false trail, a red herring, to keep him from discovering the truth.

These thoughts ran through Severus's mind in seconds, meanwhile, the boy was lying flat on his office floor, panting heavily, deep inside the Dark Lord's mind.

Fuck, Severus wasn't paid enough.

"POTTER," he yelled, not wanting to touch the boy. Thankfully, the boy woke immediately. It didn't surprise him that Potter couldn't explain himself.

Severus barely had time to sputter before the horrible lesson was ended prematurely by the sacking of Sybill Trelawney. He'd never been more grateful to the old fraud.

* * *

He reported the entire debacle to Dumbledore. He tried to be sparing with the details; it was disturbing having to report information that showed Harry Potter to be a better spy for Dumbledore, and fucking Augustus Rookwood to be a better spy for the Dark Lord.

"The Dark Lord has learned of the protections on the Hall of Prophecy from Augustus Rookwood," he told the headmaster. "He's formulating a new plan based on this information. The plan involves Polyjuice, and almost certainly Harry Potter. And Occlumency will not help Potter. The boy is Legilimizing the Dark Lord."

He said all of this before he even sat down.

Dumbledore was disturbingly calm as ever. "Polyjuice will not help Voldemort enter the Department of Mysteries," he said, as if this answered all of Severus's concerns.

"But could Polyjuice help Potter enter the Department of Mysteries? The boy is desperately curious about the place."

Dumbledore frowned. "Harry would not need Polyjuice to enter the Department of Mysteries."

"Still...should we not tell the boy that the Dark Lord will soon have access to Polyjuice?"

"Severus, if you tell Harry that, he will never trust anyone ever again."

"Consider for a moment that that may be an improvement," Severus said sourly.

Dumbledore disagreed. "Unless you learn something more specific about Voldemort's plans, Harry need not know of them."

"What I fear, Dumbledore, is that I will not learn of the Dark Lord's plans until it is too late."

Dumbledore had nothing to say to that, so Severus tried a different tack.

"I intend to discontinue Potter's Occlumency lessons."

Dumbledore was silent.

"The boy has neither the temperament nor the desire to learn, and Occlumency won't help him stay out of the Dark Lord's mind."

"But Voldemort can easily use the link in reverse, Severus, and we must prevent that."

"Headmaster-"

"No, Severus."

Severus closed his eyes. "Even if we continue with the lessons, it will not help the boy develop a skill which he has shown no desire to learn. I may as well hold his head under water in order to teach him to breathe underwater."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I believe we did exactly that during the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament last year. If you remember, Harry managed."

"Bad example," Severus muttered, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

When Severus delivered the Polyjuice to the Dark Lord, he found the meeting awkward. Was Potter looking out at him from the Dark Lord's eyes at that very moment? Just in case, he was sure to say, "Here is your Polyjuice my Lord. I hope it is useful to you." Surely the boy wouldn't need a broader hint than that.

But Severus never got the chance to see if the boy got his message. By curfew the next night, Dumbledore was sacked, and all the teachers were in a tizzy about Potter's not-so-secret Defense Group finally being found out by Umbridge. Severus himself was surprised the idiot children had kept the secret for as long as they had.

Potter's next scheduled Occlumency lesson was interrupted before it even started, by Graham Montague's reappearance in a Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor. Severus dismissed Potter and went to take care of business.

When he returned to his office, Harry Potter was standing by his desk with his head buried in the Pensieve.

Severus saw spots.

His hands and feet felt tingly.

He nearly cast the Killing Curse straightaway.

But there was nothing for it-he needed to see the damage. He dipped his own head in the Pensieve to see what memory Potter was viewing.

It was only the lowest moment of his life.

Severus grabbed the boy, hard. He shook him, hard. He threw him to the floor, hard. If all Potter suffered was bruises, it wasn't because of Severus's temperance. He threw a jar of cockroaches at the boy's head, hard. The jar was made of heavy glass, and the moment Severus threw it, he meant to kill Potter. He didn't usually miss-so perhaps Potter really was an amazing Defense student and had managed to deflect the jar, wandlessly and wordlessly. Luckily, Potter also ran, which meant that Severus didn't get a second chance. Because he wasn't a man to do things by halves.

He avoided Minerva for days afterwards, ashamed of himself. If the boy told her what had happened, how Severus had behaved-he wasn't willing to justify his actions to her. He could barely justify his actions to himself.

He had been such a fool. He had told Dumbledore that even the name "Department of Mysteries" was to Potter like a red flag to a bull. But then what was a bowlful of hidden memories, sitting on a table in an empty room? ...But why couldn't the boy show one single ounce of decorum?

He cursed himself for putting the memories in the Pensieve in the first place. He had over a hundred empty flasks sitting in his office which would be perfect for storing memories, which were also conveniently impossible to use for viewing those memories. Why hadn't that even occurred to him?

And why had Dumbledore given him the Pensieve in the first place? Did Dumbledore suspect something like this would happen? That was chilling.

His only consolation was that Minerva remained silent on the issue, and the only way she would remain silent was if she didn't know.

At least he didn't see the boy all through Easter holidays.

The first lesson on the first Monday back from holidays was seventh-year N.E.W.T.-level potions. The one Weasley twin-George-was in the class, and without the influence of his twin, there were times when Severus could almost mistake George Weasley for an academic. The boy really had a flair for Potions, and at the end of class that very morning, he approached Severus and said, "You once told us that a true brewer of potions could find a use for bog water. You'll be happy to know, sir, that I think I've found one."

Severus did not ask the obvious question, and Weasley grinned like his teacher had passed a test. Then the boy stuck out his hand and said, "It's been an honor learning from you, sir." Severus looked at the proffered hand, looked back at the boy, and walked away. He could hear Weasley snickering.

He honestly did not want to know.

The next class was Potter's. Potter himself was subdued in class, which Severus was grateful for. He was determined to leave the boy alone-not even offer him advice on how to brew his potion-so it galled him at the end of class when Potter turned in his work. The potion was perfect-Severus could tell at a glace. His ambivalence suddenly left him, and he quite deliberately dropped Potter's flask of potion on the floor. The boy whipped around in disbelief, and Severus said, "Whoops," in a way designed to get under the boy's skin, which worked wonderfully. Severus was almost disappointed that Granger had already Vanished the rest of the boy's potion. After all, it would have been fun to drop flask after flask of Potter's potion.

At the end of lessons that day, Severus was summoned to an upstairs corridor, just past the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, where he found an extensive swamp, complete with smells and wildlife. Several students and teachers were standing around it, gawping.

Umbridge was beside herself, and couldn't seem to form complete sentences, or even thoughts. "WHAT?" she said. "WHO!"

"I saw the Weasley twins, Headmistress," said Draco Malfoy delightedly.

Of course he'd seen the Weasley twins, Severus thought. At least the use of bog water had been for an innocuous purpose-by Weasley twin standards, anyway.

"Me too!" squealed Pansy Parkinson. "And they were headed downstairs, I saw them!" And Umbridge and all her lackeys departed, leaving just Severus, Filius, Minerva, and Pomona staring at the swamp. A light drizzle began to fall.

"This involves a complicated Charm, but there's more magic at work here," Filius said.

"There's a potion in play, too," Severus offered. "And the elements of it are...quite ingenious."

"As is the Transfigured part," Minerva said.

"I think that what we're looking at is proof that Fred and George Weasley could have done much better in all our classes," Pomona said, as a flock of cranes flew overhead.

Minerva laughed, a full-bellied laugh, the kind of laugh that led to a coughing fit. The others stared at her, but did not join in her mirth. "I'm sorry," she said eventually, after she'd collected herself. "But those boys have caused me more headaches over the years than I can count. But if all those headaches brought us to this moment, I find myself quite content with it." She chuckled again.

"Well," Severus said. He crossed his arms and sighed. "I am unable to reverse any of this magic."

Pomona shook her head regretfully, even while she grinned. "I'm afraid I'm quite useless in a swamp."

Filius rubbed his hands together and said, "I'm sure the headmistress will understand our difficulties. She'll likely be able to handle this without us, in any case. Severus, I think you should inform her."

Severus agreed-the rest of them had terrible poker faces.

"Good," Pomona said. "I'm glad that's settled. I always thought this corridor needed more ecological diversity."

The four Heads of House made their way down to the entrance hall, just in time to see the Weasley twins fly off into the sunset. Severus and Minerva, side-by-side, made brief eye contact. Severus kept his face carefully blank as he turned around to head back into the corridor, but as he turned, Minerva held her hand up high, palm facing toward Severus. Without pausing, he took her cue and they slapped each other's palms.

* * *

Late that night, Severus got a visit from Dumbledore's Patronus. "You gave me your word you'd teach Harry Occlumency, Severus," it said, and vanished.

He returned his doe with the message: "I gave you my word I would try. The attempt has failed. Good day."

In truth, no promises were demanded nor made, not about results or effort. But Dumbledore tended to remember what was felt, rather than what was said.

Also, how the hell did Dumbledore find out? And how much did Dumbledore know? Did the Weasley twins escape just to tell him? (Severus doubted it. The one twin had seemed far too pleased with himself, and far too genuine to Severus. It was unlikely he knew any dirt about his teacher.)

But Dumbledore didn't send another message, and Severus found that he didn't care.

* * *

End-of-term exams were upon them, which was Severus's favorite time of year. He was no longer responsible for teaching the idiots anything. There was no verbal interaction at all-the only thing required of him was to glower. Also, the Wizarding Examinations Authority took over the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. testing, which meant that Severus didn't even have to see fifth or seventh year students for two whole weeks.

One night towards the end of tests, he was urgently summoned to the hospital wing after midnight. When he arrived, he found Minerva in a bad state and Poppy buzzing around her. He froze in the doorway.

"Severus, I'm glad you came so quickly," Poppy said. "I've got her stabilized, but she needs Skelegrow, but she's allergic to-"

"-bicorn hair," Severus said. It was in his professional interest to be well aware of all the staff's allergies, and most of the major student ones. Bicorn could be substituted with unicorn hair, which made Skelegrow slower acting (and thus more painful), but also made the bones grow back stronger. Still, it was an unusual allergy, and they didn't keep substitute potions on hand. Severus would have to make a batch from scratch-a seven hour task, if he didn't take breaks. "I can make it tonight," he said. "Are there any other potions you'll be needing?"

"No, I have enough to be getting on with. I know it'll take a while to make the Skelegrow-that will keep you busy."

He looked at Minerva, absolutely still on the hospital bed and looking very pale. "You'll have it by morning," he said, and turned to leave. He hadn't even asked how she got in that state. Honestly, he didn't have time for idle chit-chat. Poppy had implied that Minerva would be fine, and whatever injury she had that required Skelegrow was best treated sooner rather than later.

He brewed all through the night. Lack of sleep wouldn't matter; his only scheduled test the next day was sixth-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. That group didn't even require a full glower.

When he delivered the completed potion, Poppy thanked him profusely. "I'm having her transferred to St. Mungo's this morning-I just knew that you could get her the proper potion before they could. Thanks again, Severus."

"What happened to her?"

She looked at him. "Didn't I tell you last night?" When he shook his head, she shrugged. "I'm sorry-I tend to get a little focused. It's just-that...woman and her minions sacked Hagrid last night, and Minerva apparently got wind of it and tried to step in. She was hit by four Stunning Spells."

"FOUR?" Severus didn't mean to yell, but he'd once been hit by three Disarming Charms, cast by three thirteen-year-olds, and was embarrassed by how long he'd been knocked unconscious by it. Four Stunning Spells, cast by four adults?

Dolores Fucking Umbridge had just crossed a line.

* * *

He was summoned to Dolores Fucking Umbridge's office that very afternoon, and was somehow unsurprised to find Potter and several of his cohorts-along with Luna Lovegood?-held captive there. He did his best to kill her with kindness-it was the most infuriating of Dumbledore's tactics, and it felt perversely good to use it against someone else. He even made a polite little bow when he was rudely dismissed.

Before he could make his exit, though, Potter yelled in a panic, "He's got Padfoot in the place where it's hidden!"

Severus froze. His first thought was, "How the fuck did the Dark Lord get one of Black's hairs?" His second thought was to somehow communicate to the boy: "BE AWARE THAT I HAVE RECENTLY BREWED POLYJUICE POTION FOR THE DARK LORD." But he could not possibly convey that in a way that Potter would understand and Umbridge wouldn't. And even if he could, Potter was clearly in no mood to disbelieve what he saw.

(He found out later from Narcissa that the Dark Lord had Transfigured an entire wing of Malfoy Manor to resemble the Department of Mysteries. Bellatrix had taken Polyjuice to transform herself into Black, and gleefully submitted herself to the Dark Lord's torture. And then a group of Death Eaters waited for Potter to show up at the Ministry, where Lucius had placed a Monitoring Charm to alert them to the presence of underage wizards. It was...quite a good plan, and had almost worked perfectly.)

At the time, all Severus could do was try to minimize the fallout. His efforts worked: the Dark Lord didn't retrieve the prophecy, no children were permanently injured, and the only person killed was Black. Potter, of course, was ungrateful.

The first time he saw Potter after the events at the Ministry, the boy was moments away from hexing Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. When Severus interfered, the boy threw him a murderous look. But before the boy could be properly reprimanded, Minerva entered the hall, just returned from her stint in St. Mungo's. Severus thought he hid it well, but he was deeply relieved to see her-even after she liberally rewarded the boy and all his accomplices for their foolhardiness at the Ministry. She smirked at Severus and took a handful of points on his behalf, then shooed all the children away.

Alone in the Entrance Hall, Minerva gave Severus a long look. "I heard that you tried to stop it," she said.

"You'll note that I failed," he replied. "The boy is too reckless."

"He's already suffered enough for it. Albus told me that Black was murdered right in front of him."

His acerbic reply got lost in his throat. He hadn't known that, but it did fit with Potter's unfortunate track record. "That's...that's pretty fucked up," he finally said.

"Then we're agreed," she said, then grabbed his arm and demanded that he escort her up to her office.


	6. Chapter 6

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _So you learn not to yearn;  
you take it on the chin again  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

That summer, Severus witnessed Draco being Marked. The men and women who took the Mark all thought they could handle the pain, but it was an impossible thing to prepare for. Even Severus, who at the age of seventeen had prided himself on both his Occlumency and his high threshold for pain, had felt like his entire body and mind had been ripped apart during his Marking. As Draco screamed in agony, Severus wondered if Potter was dreaming about this at the moment. He found himself hoping against it; the boy didn't need any more source material for his nightmares.

When the Marking was over, Draco was dragged to his feet by two masked Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord caressed his face, almost lovingly. "My boy," he said, "I have a wondrous task for you." And he smiled, almost serene.

Severus felt as if his legs had been hollowed out. He was glad when the Dark Lord didn't elaborate.

At the end of the night, the Dark Lord asked to have a word with Severus, so Severus lingered until all the other Death Eaters had taken their leave.

When they were alone, the Dark Lord turned to him. "Ah, at last we can speak freely."

"Yes, my Lord."

"I have tasked the young Mr. Malfoy with killing that old fool Dumbledore."

Severus couldn't help it; he froze for a moment. He thought of many things to say, and ruthlessly shoved them down for being wildly inappropriate: 'Draco is fucked,'-accurate, but a little too on the nose; 'You're a fucking coward,'-same problem; 'Finally, an intelligent delegation of duties,'-sarcasm was only tolerated in jesters and fools, and Severus was neither.

Finally, in a voice lacking inflection, he said, "A difficult task." This was true and also had the benefit of being non-committal.

"A task which will determine his worthiness. You will need to keep a close watch on him, Severus."

"I had already intended to do so, my Lord."

"He may...have difficulty succeeding in his task."

"Yes, my Lord."

"He may benefit from your...guidance."

Severus paused, as if considering the exact meaning of the Dark Lord's words, but in truth, he had expected this from the moment he'd heard of Draco's new task. There was only one reason Severus would be informed of it-because the Dark Lord wanted a backup plan. Because Draco would certainly fail, but the deed must still be done.

"Yes, my Lord." Hopefully he wasn't sealing his fate.

* * *

He reported back to Dumbledore, but only the fact that Draco had been initiated and given the task of killing him. He couldn't bring himself to speak of his own assigned role. He decided to carry the weight of it himself-it was the burden of a double agent, after all.

But after only two days had passed, he received an urgent message from the headmaster. Severus traveled by Floo to Dumbledore's office, and he found the man incapacitated. The power of the curse he was under radiated from him in waves. Severus did all he could, but the magic that engulfed Dumbledore was beyond him. At least he was able to avert Dumbledore's immediate death.

When he had done all he could and the headmaster was out of immediate danger, Severus would have liked to scold the man for all he was worth, but Dumbledore returned to his usual persona with startling quickness. In a few moments, he was cheerfully discussing his own murder and Draco's impossible task.

"In short," Dumbledore summarized, "the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have. Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?"

The problem with Dumbledore, Severus thought, was that he could never be wrong-footed. Just when you thought he had been, the man wrong-footed you. So much for keeping things to himself.

"That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan," he said. _I think_ , he scolded himself. He didn't usually cover himself with such weak lies, not when Dumbledore could surely see through them. Though instead of calling Severus out, the headmaster simply asked three favors of Severus: first, protect the students of Hogwarts when the school fell under the purview of the Dark Lord; second, watch over Draco and offer guidance; and finally, murder the headmaster at the appropriate time.

Dumbledore certainly had a way of thanking people for saving his life. Of course, Severus hadn't really been able to save the man's life-only prolong it-but wasn't that what "saving a life" always came down to?

But even after Dumbledore had gotten these assurances from Severus, he was still not done. "This curse," he indicated his blackened hand, "has clarified some things and muddied some others-a mixed bag, as it were-and we need to sort through two more things. First of all, how this should be reported to Lord Voldemort."

Severus nodded, as this had already occurred to him.

"Luckily, I am aging, and we can therefore blame any number of things on that. Slowing reflexes, longer recovery time from my duel with Tom at the Ministry...of course, I would prefer the exact nature of the curse to remain hidden."

"Yes, thank you Dumbledore, as I had already surmised as much, since to do otherwise would quite remove meaning from your murder."

"Good, then we're agreed. Also, do not mention the source of the curse. Just mention it as a serious injury, and leave it at that."

"Mm," Severus agreed. "You said there were two things?"

"Yes. The second item is a yearly problem, but I believe that this year's solution has quite simply fallen in our laps. I think you'll agree that, one way or another, Hogwarts will be quite different in a year's time, and therefore any staffing decisions made at the moment are guaranteed to be somewhat elastic?"

"...Yes..."

"Good, then. I want you to teach Defense. I believe I can easily find another Potions Master."

Severus hadn't been able to predict _that_ turn of conversation, but to be fair, the whole evening seemed like a prolonged nightmare. He responded by putting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. "Certainly, headmaster," he said to the floor.

When Severus finally left Dumbledore's office, he reflected on his myriad assignments. The very first thing Dumbledore asked seemed monumental: he needed to protect the lives of idiots with no impulse control from a madman with no moral center. And he would have to do this without allies-for Dumbledore would be dead, any remaining staff would see Severus as an enemy, and any Death Eaters would see him as an associate. And before he could see _that_ through, he had to protect a desperate teenager and murder his own mentor. But before _all_ of this, he first had to lie to the madman with no moral center, who happened to be an accomplished Legilimens.

At least Severus also got to prepare an entire curriculum from scratch.

* * *

That night, Severus dreamed that his mother asked him to kill his father. "Please," she said. "You do it so that Harry Potter doesn't have to."

When he woke up, he was disgusted with the simplistic symbolism of his subconscious.

The next evening, Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange showed up on his doorstep, and Narcissa- _quelle surprise_ -asked Severus to watch over Draco and kill Dumbledore. Severus even made an Unbreakable Vow to her. It didn't matter to him, anyway-he had already promised all she'd asked and more. In for a knut, in for a galleon.

He wasted a few hours in a snit, wondering who else would ask him to watch over Draco and kill Dumbledore. Christ, it was like the universe was sending him a message or something. He didn't need the signal repetition; he surely had understood the promise the first time he made it.

* * *

He spent the rest of the summer writing a curriculum for Defense Against the Dark Arts for students with severely stunted backgrounds in the subject. He started with the lower years, since they weren't as far behind. When he finally started planning for N.E.W.T. level classes, he had vague hopes of maintaining his usual high standards of admittance, but of the incoming sixth and seventh years, only Harry Potter had managed an O at O.W.L. Curiously, a good handful of sixth years had earned an E and even more had earned an A; but among the seventh years, only a few had earned an A and none above that.

Perhaps Potter's defense tutoring had come to something after all. However, Severus would be teaching supposedly "advanced" students who had barely scraped an A at O.W.L., and he needed to modify his expectations. After all, it was possible that some of the seventh years had never performed a single Defensive Charm in all their years at Hogwarts.

The coming year would certainly be challenging.

* * *

A week before term started, Dumbledore summoned Severus back to his office. Severus refused to panic, but he may have stumbled a bit on his way out of the Floo, and his shoulders may have sagged in relief when Dumbledore offered him a sherbert lemon. He refused the sweet.

The headmaster said, "I want to discuss your role this upcoming year."

"Which one?" Severus asked. There were so many: protector, murderer, Death Eater, professor...

"The spy for Voldemort." Severus braced himself but said nothing. Dumbledore continued, "It hasn't escaped my notice that Death Eater activity has increased."

Nor had it escaped Severus's. But of course, he didn't have prior knowledge of any of the attacks, which Dumbledore surely knew. And Severus refused to admit if he participated in the attacks or not. He wasn't sure which would be worse: if he took part in the horrors, or if he was left out of it completely. So he comforted himself with stony silence.

"Severus, we must increase security on Hogwarts for the coming school year. I regret to tell you that this will limit your ability to come and go as you please. You must not leave the grounds while school is in term."

Oh. Well.

Severus frowned as he tried to think through the ramifications. On the face of it, this did clear up some issues he'd been worried about-like how often he would have to report Draco's "progress" to the Dark Lord. However, it would certainly complicate other issues. For example-

"You say this affects my role as a spy for the Dark Lord. However, it also rather impedes my ability to spy for you. Do you no longer require my services in that capacity?"

Dumbledore hesitated, which made Severus tense further. "I admit that I think of you less as a spy, and more of an agent."

"An agent," Severus repeated sourly. "And what is the difference? A taller, pointier hat?"

The headmaster didn't respond, which was just as well. Severus knew the difference, and knew which described him best: the one reported information; the other was a weapon.

* * *

When the students finally arrived, Draco sauntered into the Welcoming Feast well after his cronies were already settled. Indeed, he was among the last of the students to arrive-but not the very last, as there was one particular Boy Who Lived still conspicuously absent from the feast. At least Minerva hadn't yet arrived with the first years, so Severus took the opportunity to slip out the side door of the Great Hall. He found her waiting in the entrance hall, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Bit behind schedule?" he asked.

She groaned. "Hagrid's running late," she said.

"He's not the only one."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Anything I need to worry about?"

"Almost certainly not," he said, and went out the front doors.

He hadn't gone far when he saw a Patronus-in the form of a werewolf, of all things-striding across the grounds. He had a good guess as to what that was about.

"Nymphadora Tonks," he said to the silver savage beast. He snorted when it turned towards him.

The Patronus was uncanny-a great slavering thing with fierce teeth, yet still somehow radiating calm. It spoke in Nymphadora's voice. "I found Harry on the train, but I'll need someone to let us in the front gates."

It disappeared, and Severus snorted again and walked toward the gates. He saw Nymphadora and Potter already waiting there for him. The boy had taken a hit to the nose, but had been healed-the blood covering his face was already dry. Still, he was a shocking sight.

He wished it was a coincidence that Draco had arrived at the Feast after all his friends. He wished that even though Draco hadn't yet started the school year, he hadn't already had such a ridiculous fit of temper as to physically attack Harry Fucking Potter.

But all the signs contradicted his wishes. At least Draco seemed to have enough decorum to attack Harry Potter without witnesses and without permanent injury.

He dismissed Nymphadora and escorted Potter to the castle.

Potter, who had watched the murder of his godfather. Potter, whose thought processes Severus was well-acquainted with. Five years ago, there had been rumors that Potter would be the next Dark Lord, but Severus had never believed them. He thought it far more likely that the boy would shit rainbows and bunnies, given all the innocent wonder that radiated from him. But now the Wizarding world was convinced of Potter's innate goodness, and Severus again doubted public opinion. How much evil could a child-and Potter was still a child-be witness to; how many people he loved could be cut down in front of him; how often could he witness the Dark Lord's madness-through the eyes of the Dark Lord himself-and still remain pure of heart?

Whatever the actual quantity, Severus was certain that Potter had comfortably passed the limits. And even if he hadn't yet, the boy would lose Dumbledore within a year. Surely the boy would eventually become closed off to his feelings-if he hadn't already. And then he would lose all sense of empathy, and then he would be as mad as the Dark Lord.

As Severus walked Potter to the castle, the boy remained disturbingly silent, but at least he didn't seem to have the flat affect he'd had when the Diggory boy was murdered. Severus finally opened the conversation by taking seventy points from Gryffindor. Potter seethed, but didn't respond verbally. He just kept walking. Severus continued to needle him, even though he never once talked back. The boy became more agitated-his face redder (underneath the blood), his steps choppier and more robotic.

Anger was good. Severus could work with it.

* * *

Severus spent the first part of term trying to keep a watch on Draco. His efforts were in vain; after years of exposing characteristics that would make any Gryffindor proud, Draco finally showed his cunning side. He effectively avoided Severus at every turn. The boy showed quite an aptitude for it, especially given that Draco was in his Defense class. After three weeks, Severus was desperate enough to ask Draco directly to come to his office.

It didn't surprise him that the boy didn't show at the appointed hour, and Severus spent the time poring over his books, looking for an effective Monitoring Charm for the situation. As Draco was not nearly as foolhardy as Harry Potter, Severus's options were not as limited. Of all the charms he could find, the Eavesdropping Charm would be best, but he had no desire to listen to every conversation the boy had. He decided to modify the Charm so that it would activate only if Draco mentioned certain words.

The next morning at breakfast, Severus surreptitiously cast an Eavesdropping Charm on Draco that would activate if the boy mentioned "Dumbledore" or "headmaster." The charm would have to be refreshed every week, but that was not a problem.

As Severus discreetly put his wand away, Minerva startled him out of his thoughts. "How is he?" she asked.

Severus looked at her stupidly. Why would she care about Draco? And then he realized: she didn't. She was asking about Harry Potter.

"He's..." but he didn't have a response. He hadn't given much thought to Potter lately. "He's good at avoiding his detentions," he finally said.

"Just as good at earning those detentions, I imagine," she said.

"Hm," was all he said. These days, when he thought about Minerva, he thought about how she would react to Dumbledore's murder. Because of this, he'd tried his best to avoid her.

Minerva didn't seem to have noticed this yet. Well, he wasn't very sociable to start with-perhaps there wasn't much to notice. She blithely continued, "He seems very...typical this term."

He huffed in agreement. "So typical I've barely noticed him, yes. All hail the savior of the Wizarding world: a perfectly ordinary teenager."

"Doesn't it bother you, Severus?"

"Bother me? No, certainly not-I've been trying to tell you that there's nothing special about Harry Potter for years."

"No-I'm not explaining myself. Last year, he was withdrawn and moody-for good reason. But he has good reason this year, too. Is he putting on a front? Is he hiding something?"

"What do you suspect him of hiding? The fact that he's a new dark lord ascendant?" He could say it so easily, of course, because the thought had already occurred to him.

Minerva scowled at him. "That boy has lived through things no one should have to live through, Severus."

"And you were comfortable with that until he stopped being an arsehole about it?" Another reason he liked Minerva was that when he argued with her, it made his own fears seem so stupid. He smirked at her, honestly pleased with his own argument.

Minerva, however, was turning beet red. "You know," she said, deathly calm despite her deep blush, "I taught a boy years ago-he seemed to hide a lot of things, and I worried about him-especially in his sixth year, when his behavior changed. He seemed to withdraw from everybody. I know what you'd say: 'Withdrawing is normal in a teenager,' but there was something _wrong_ , I could tell. I tried to talk to him, Severus," she said, and got choked up, and poked him hard on his shoulder as she swallowed hard to kept talking, "but he would never open up to me."

She took several deep breaths, but didn't seem to want to continue.

"What happened to him?" he asked, curious despite himself.

She frowned, the type of frown that takes over the whole face, and is only one step removed from hysterical crying. "He joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of course, then turned spy for the Order, then grew into an embittered, hateful man whose company I still sometimes seek despite myself."

It wasn't often that Severus was dumbfounded. And slightly offended. Was she comparing him to Harry Potter? Gryffindors usually spoke much more directly than this. "Me?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Yes you, you miserable old goat."

Ah, there was the Gryffindor directness. He said the only thing he could think of. "I don't recall you ever trying to talk to me."

In his sixth year, he'd already lost Lily. In losing her, he'd lost himself-he had no other close friends he was completely comfortable with. In Slytherin, he couldn't speak of the Muggle world at all, and he hadn't found anyone with whom he could spin magical theories. He'd surrounded himself with the likes of Mulciber and Avery, and never felt more alone than when in their company. The time he spent buried in his Potions book was more stimulating.

He tried to put himself back in that wretched year, trying to remember if Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, had ever tried to take him aside and ask about his feelings. He couldn't remember.

Minerva said, "I asked you to stay after class to help me tidy up a few times. I tried to ask if something was upsetting you, but you never did much more than shrug."

He looked at her. He still didn't recall it, but he was able to imagine it easily enough. "I...wish I had made better use of that opportunity."

She clenched her jaw and teared up again. "It's no matter. What's done is done. Now we can only hope to save Harry Potter from your own grim fate."

She was teasing him, but it rankled. She was only concerned with Harry Fucking Potter, when at the moment, Draco Malfoy was far more likely to suffer Severus's grim fate. Worse, he couldn't even call her on it, because he couldn't explain to her why he was concerned for Draco.

He told himself that being annoyed with her was a good thing-he was supposed to be withdrawing from her. It would help his cover later, after he'd murdered Dumbledore.


	7. Chapter 7

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _See, I never want to sing again  
La la la, like a butterfly  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

The charm on Draco remained silent through the rest of September. It became obvious that the boy had finally developed enough subtlety to not speak directly of his plans to anyone. In October, Severus decided to cast a different charm, one which would alert him if Draco was in mortal danger. This charm, too, would need to be renewed weekly, and Severus was diligent in its application.

Which was why it disturbed Severus so greatly when Katie Bell, a Gryffindor seventh year, was cursed by a necklace so expensive that only a Malfoy could buy it. The necklace was also so dangerous that the charm should have alerted Severus if Draco had even been in the same room with it.

He had no time to worry the details-immediately after Argus Filch had brought him the cursed necklace and told him the barest of details, Severus was urgently summoned to the hospital wing, and had to work feverishly through the afternoon and night to counter the dark curse on the girl. He simply refused to let the curse progress-not after having failed Dumbledore; not when the cost of having failed Dumbledore was so high.

It took every bit of his magical prowess-and quite a bit of assistance from Poppy-but by morning the girl was stable enough to move to St. Mungo's. The curse had been neutralized; all that remained was for the girl to recover from the damage it had already caused.

He went to his rooms, ready to collapse in his bed and sleep the day away-luckily it was Sunday-but before he could even remove his robes, there was a knock on his door.

It was Minerva. She didn't wait for him to say anything-indeed she didn't even step in the door. She just said, "Severus, I know you'll likely want to get some sleep, but I just wanted to thank you for saving Miss Bell's life. I just met with Mr. and Mrs. Bell, and I'm...it's because of you I was able to tell them their little girl would be okay. Don't worry, I didn't tell them that-I know you're a cantankerous old coot." She nodded. "Thank you."

And she hugged him. It was blessedly short. And then she turned and left.

* * *

Severus only slept for a few hours, and when he woke, he worried about the problem with Draco. How had he got that necklace into Miss Bell's hands, and how did he think that would help him kill Dumbledore-especially given that Dumbledore was currently away from the castle? Was Miss Bell supposed to deliver the necklace to him upon his return?

If that had been the plan, it was desperate and bumbling. Hopefully the boy did not think it a masterstroke of subterfuge.

But Severus was missing several parts of the story, so he decided to go to lunch in the Great Hall. Thankfully, Minerva was there.

"I need to know everything that happened with Miss Bell," he said to her, as he helped himself to some stew. He was hungry-he hadn't eaten since lunch the day before.

"It's good to see you, Severus. I'll tell you everything I know, but be warned, a good bit of it is from Potter."

"Potter was there?" Of course Potter was there.

"Of course Potter was there," she said. "Along with-"

"-Weasley and Miss Granger-"

"Weasley and Miss Granger, yes, of course."

And Minerva told him about how Miss Bell and her friend Leanne Timmons were at the Three Broomsticks, and Miss Bell went to the bathroom and when she came out, she insisted that they go back to Hogwarts early, saying that she needed to deliver something. Miss Timmons later thought that Miss Bell had been put under the Imperius Curse, but Minerva thought that unlikely. The Unforgivable Curses had got quite a bit of press, but the Confundus Charm was far more prevalent. (Severus tended to agree.) After they left the pub, Miss Bell and Miss Timmons argued, and the necklace fell out of its package. Potter and his friends reported what happened afterwards.

But how had Draco done it? Had he stooped so low as to lie in wait in the ladies' at a pub, just so he could Confund an unsuspecting girl into being a courier?

Minerva kept talking. "You'll be happy to know that Potter has reverted back to baseless accusations."

"Oh?"

"Yes-he insisted that Draco Malfoy was behind the curse!"

"Really." It should have surprised him that Potter somehow knew, but it didn't.

"I've been needing to talk to you about Mr. Malfoy for a while, Severus. Something is different about him."

"How do you mean?" He was absolutely noncommittal.

"He hasn't turned in two assignments for me. I gave him a stern warning the first time, but when he didn't turn in the second one, I gave him a detention."

"I will speak to him about it."

"I'm sure you will. By the way, he served his detention with me yesterday-he wasn't even in Hogsmeade-but when I told that to Potter, the boy still insisted that Malfoy was responsible for what happened to Miss Bell! I've never been so exasperated with him. I felt quite a kinship with you at that moment, Severus."

"My condolences." Curiouser and curiouser. He needed to visit the Three Broomsticks to see if he could find any clues there. It would be better than confronting Draco directly.

He visited the pub in question that afternoon. It was mostly empty, which meant that he could talk to Rosmerta without many interruptions. She greeted him with a smile.

"Severus, I don't often see you in my pub these days. What brings you?"

She didn't see him in her pub almost ever. He was surprised she remembered his name. Still, she had an open mien befitting a barmaid, so he decided to use it. "Sad business, I'm afraid. Did you hear about the girl who was cursed yesterday?"

"Yes-I overheard some students talking about it. They said it was spooky, the way the girl levitated like that! Is she going to be okay? Did you find out how it happened?"

Severus gave her a very broad outline, mostly true, and he couldn't help it if she inferred some details wrongly. "The reason I'm here is that the girl was cursed right after she left the Three Broomsticks-"

"No!" Rosmerta interjected.

"-Indeed she was, and her friend said that her behavior changed after a visit to the restroom. So I have an odd request: I'd like to see your ladies' room."

She looked at him oddly. "You always did have the strangest requests, Severus. What are you hoping to find?"

He could not remember ever making any request to the woman. Perhaps his reputation preceded him. "I'm hoping that I'll know it when I see it, Madam."

"Certainly. Follow me."

She led him to the ladies', and knocked on the door, yelling, "Anyone in here?" When she was met with silence, she pushed open the door and turned to Severus. "All yours," she said.

He closed his eyes and stepped in.

He wasn't being modest-he found it easier to sense spell residue without needless sensory information. Dumbledore was better at this, but Dumbledore was indisposed-off on another errand whose details he did not share with any of the staff. By the time the headmaster returned late tomorrow, any spell residue remaining would be unreadable even by him.

So Severus cleared his mind and tried to _reach_ out with his magic. He felt something, something almost sour. Like something had been wet slightly too long. ( _Something like a bathroom in a pub?,_ he asked himself sarcastically, but it was different from that.) It was almost like...how a meeting with the Death Eaters felt, sometimes, afterwards.

After an Unforgivable Curse had been cast.

He snapped his eyes open, certain. The Imperius Curse had been cast in this bathroom.

He was furious when he returned to the castle. Had Draco really managed to cast an Unforgivable? At the age of sixteen? Severus knew from experience that a sixteen-year-old who could successfully cast an Unforgivable Curse was a danger to himself and everyone around him.

And how had he managed it?

It didn't matter. Severus returned directly to his rooms and started to modify yet another Monitoring Charm-one that would alert him if Draco even attempted to cast another Unforgivable Curse. The charm didn't take long to work out-it helped that Severus knew exactly what he wanted it to do. He cast it on Draco at dinner that night.

The charm didn't activate all term, but Severus kept renewing it every week.

* * *

Draco stepped aside for the first Quidditch match of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Severus would have liked to skip the match in favor of following the boy around the castle, but then he would have been as transparent as the boy. Dumbledore wasn't even at Hogwarts, having gone on yet another of his mysterious excursions, so Severus couldn't imagine what Draco was doing.

So he went to the match and sat by Minerva, but he was so distracted that even she noticed. In deference to his mood, she spent the match chatting with Filius, who sat on her other side.

Severus spent the match thinking about Draco: about how he'd managed to cast the Imperius Curse at all; about how he'd been able to do it while having a rock-solid alibi; about how he could have possibly thought this convoluted plan could lead to Dumbledore's death; about how he hadn't seemed at all perturbed that his actions very nearly led to the death of a girl.

Since the incident with the necklace, Severus had asked Draco twice more to meet in his office. Had Draco asked about the purpose of the meeting, Severus was prepared to tell him that it was about his Transfiguration homework. But Draco had just nodded. Of course, he hadn't come to either meeting.

Dumbledore hadn't been worried that Draco would succeed in his task-he'd been more concerned with whatever collateral damage the boy would inflict while trying to accomplish it. And now it seemed Dumbledore was correct.

And Severus had sworn, multiple times, to keep an eye out for the idiot child-to protect him to the best of his ability. It seemed his abilities were sadly lacking. All these months, and he wasn't even sure how Draco had managed the one thing he'd certainly done. His Monitoring Charms were the epitome of his accomplishments so far, and those had been useless.

Not that anyone was keeping close tabs on Severus. Even Dumbledore spent more time away from the castle than he did in it, these days. And yet the old man still refused to tell anyone where he was going.

Severus sat contemplating these things in the cold Quidditch stands for what seemed like hours, until Minerva finally turned to him and shook his hand. "Better luck next time, Severus," she said.

"Oh, we lost then?" he said.

She lightly punched his arm. "No, _you_ lost. Come have tea with me."

But he declined. He went back to his rooms, alone, and wondered why he didn't save himself a lot of worry and kill Dumbledore now. Perhaps he could even get the barmy old man to agree to the plan.

* * *

Severus didn't see Draco outside of classes until the night of Slughorn's Christmas party.

A Christmas party. Slughorn was a master manipulator-Severus was shocked to find himself in attendance. (Slughorn had told Severus that several high-level potions suppliers would be in attendance-"and you were always very good at potions, m'boy! You really can't miss this opportunity-you may never see ingredients of this caliber again!" Still, he didn't exactly know why he'd come.)

Severus spent most of the party doing his best to melt into a corner, until Slughorn dragged him over to talk to Harry Potter, of all people. Potter looked at least as uncomfortable as Severus felt, especially when Slughorn praised his potion-making abilities. Potter looked everywhere but at Severus.

If he had been the least bit interested in solving another mystery, he would have pursued that shifty look. But then Argus Filch arrived, dragging Draco in by the ear-almost as if to remind Severus of his prior commitments. Well, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth; now would be a fine time to have a private chat with Draco.

But the boy had learned to Occlude. Draco's Occlumency was clunky, but effective enough-it showed all the brutal elegance of Bellatrix, who had certainly been the one to teach the boy. Severus could break through Draco's defenses if he wanted to-but then, so could the Dark Lord, and it was not in Severus's best interests for the Dark Lord to learn how skilled he was at Legilimency.

And damn Bellatrix to the pits of hell anyway. She was the one who practically insisted that Severus take the Unbreakable Vow, yet she taught Draco a form of magic that prevented Severus from keeping his word.

There was nothing for it. He let Draco go.

* * *

With the arrival of the Christmas holidays, the castle emptied of almost all students. None of Slytherin House remained, so while Severus had duties to attend to at Hogwarts during the day, he was free to return to his home in Spinner's End every evening.

He took the opportunity to make duplicates of all his favorite robes and toiletry items, storing one of each at Hogwarts and Spinner's End. After all, there might not be time for him to properly pack his bags after he murdered the headmaster. He congratulated himself on his foresight and pragmatism, even as he hated himself for it.

He hated Dumbledore for it as well. But that was a bit more complicated.

One evening a few days before Christmas, Narcissa visited him unexpectedly. Thankfully, she did not have Bellatrix with her. Her visit was short; she didn't want anyone to realize that she was gone. She had only come for an update on Draco.

"He's acting so withdrawn," she said. "Tell me how you've been helping him."

"Draco is making it impossible for me to assist him at all. I haven't even been able to discover his plans. You may rest assured that he has finally learned subtlety."

She slapped him-not terribly hard, but it was quick and he hadn't expected it. "How is that a good thing, Severus?" she demanded.

He rubbed his cheek, knowing that it was best to just take the hit when it came from Narcissa. He said, "Because Dumbledore has not yet realized there is a plot against him. Draco is safe as long as this remains the case."

She made an odd, choked sound, and nodded. "But he must also be making progress-he has a meeting with the Dark Lord tomorrow-if he has nothing to show for his task-he-" she clutched both of Severus's arms. "Have you been summoned by the Dark Lord to make a report?"

He hadn't, but he was sure he would. He didn't say anything, and Narcissa correctly interpreted his silence.

"When you are summoned, will you tell the Dark Lord that Draco is making progress?"

That was a very dangerous request to make. The fact that she was making it to him meant nothing good for Severus. Had she made his role?

Even if she had, she was throwing Draco's lot in with his. He suspected she wouldn't be a threat to him-unless he didn't protect Draco.

"It is impossible to lie to the Dark Lord, Narcissa," he said carefully. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he continued, "But I will tell him what I have guessed."

* * *

He was summoned to the Dark Lord's side late the next night. What he reported was mostly the truth: that he suspected that Draco had already made one attempt on Dumbledore's life that had failed, but there was no proof that Draco was behind the attempt; that Draco was secretive with any additional plans he may have; and that Severus was willing to wait to see what Draco could do before he himself stepped in to take over the task.

As his story matched the one that the Dark Lord had no doubt already seen in Draco's mind, Severus was allowed to leave the meeting quickly.

* * *

When the students returned in January, Severus had a minor fit of responsibility and renewed all the Monitoring Charms he'd ever put on Draco. They all remained silent. The boy continued to elude him; was disrespectful to adults (going so far as to embarrass all of Slytherin House by not paying attention to the guest speaker in Apparition lessons); and sat out every single Quidditch game.

Dumbledore continued to leave the castle regularly, without telling anyone his whereabouts. On the rare evenings he spent at Hogwarts, he was generally unavailable because he was meeting with Harry Potter. The first time Severus spent significant time with Dumbledore all term was in late February, when the headmaster invited him on a walk through the grounds. The men were silent as they walked through the Forbidden Forest until they reached the edge of the anti-Apparition wards. When they got there, Dumbledore instructed Severus to cross to the other side, then turn to face him. The younger man did as instructed, and watched as Dumbledore cast a complicated spell. There were no visible effects from the spell, but when the headmaster was finished casting it, he bid Severus to step back through the official boundary of Hogwarts grounds. As he did so, Severus felt a warm tingling sensation settle around him, almost like a scratchy blanket.

"There," said Dumbledore. "Can you remember this spot, Severus?"

"Yes, of course. Why? What did you do?"

"I ensured that you have a portal that will always allow you entrance to Hogwarts, no matter what other wards may be set in the future. I trust you'll make proper use of it."

Later on, when he was alone, Severus would allow himself to be staggered by the gesture. When he was young, he never even had a key to his own house-if the door was locked and no one was home, he was expected to either wait for one of his parents or else crawl through a window. And now Dumbledore had just casually guaranteed him access to Hogwarts for all time.

But now, Severus was only concerned with the immediate ramifications. "Is this...so I can meet with the Dark Lord?"

"Certainly not; I'd prefer for Voldemort to remain ignorant of this feature. This portal is for you, in case you ever have need of it."

Severus nodded; he couldn't think of any other appropriate response.

On the way back to the castle, Severus thought about the trust Dumbledore had shown him, and the trust he still denied. He couldn't help himself; he asked Dumbledore directly what secrets he had shared with Potter. The headmaster deflected the question, citing his reasons for not sharing every detail with him...and then reminded him of his promise to commit murder...followed by an insinuation that Severus wasn't doing enough to watch over Draco...and concluded the walk by asking Severus to stop by his office later, so he could impart the truly bad news.

And bad news it was.

Severus was used to not getting what he wanted, and his consolations could barely be called that. The woman he loved was dead, so he consoled himself by protecting her son who had been fathered by the bully who made his teenage years hell. It was the only thing he lived for.

And it had been for nothing. Dumbledore insisted that Harry Potter had to die. Everything Severus had been led to believe-everything he'd risked his life for-was empty. Everything that remained on this earth of Lily Evans would soon be food for worms.

And Severus, of course, had to be the one to inform the boy of his fate. He immediately saw the problem with that plan: the boy would not believe him, not unless he stripped away every one of the walls he'd built up to protect himself from the cruelties of the world. He would have to expose his true self to the boy-his regrets, his loves, his failures.

Dumbledore, no doubt, thought this was all to the good. 'Healing,' he'd probably call it, or some such bullshit. He probably wanted Potter to know all of Severus's secrets-he'd given Severus the Pensieve for the Occlumency lessons last year, after all. Severus could never shake the feeling that Dumbledore had somehow planned for the boy to intrude on his memories.

Dumbledore. Whom he would have to murder in the next few months.

So, first he'd murder Dumbledore in cold blood, then somehow convince Little Lord Blunt Instrument that _Dumbledore_ had told _Severus_ to tell _him_ that _he_ had to die so that the _Dark Lord_ could die.

Severus was so fucked.


	8. Chapter 8

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _Like I've had hard knocks all my life  
Like I'm a Bible Belt wife  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

On the first of March, another of Draco's idiot schemes to kill the headmaster came to light-again, through no skills of Severus's. Evidently the boy had poisoned a bottle of mead in Slughorn's possession, one that was supposed to have been a gift to Dumbledore, a gift the old Potions Master never got around to actually _giving_. Slughorn only managed to poison Ronald Weasley, nearly poisoned himself and-of course-Harry Potter, because Harry Potter was always involved.

At least Severus didn't have to save anyone's life this time. But Draco had very nearly killed two people, neither one of whom even vaguely resembled Dumbledore.

And still, all the Monitoring Charms remained silent. Meanwhile, Draco's work in all his classes remained just satisfactory enough that Severus had no reason to demand a private meeting.

At the Quidditch match the next weekend, Draco again didn't even show up as a spectator. Severus was again sorely tempted to skip the match himself. As a Head of House, he was required to attend all Quidditch matches, but as his own house was not playing today, the requirement was somewhat...looser. However, stalking Draco around an empty castle would be about as fruitful as his Monitoring Charms, so Severus opted to attend the game. He sat next to Minerva, who greeted him warmly. On her other side, Luna Lovegood stood up and began the match commentary as the players rose into the air.

"How is Harry Potter doing in your class?" Minerva asked him.

He felt a flash of annoyance, along with something else that was not quite annoyance. He had nothing to say about Potter, other than 'His life preserves the Dark Lord's life, and therefore he has to die.' He imagined asking for Minerva's advice about how best to deliver the news to the boy.

Instead, he said, "I do have other students, Minerva. As do you, if I recall correctly. Perhaps one day we could discuss one of them."

She whipped around to glare at him, but didn't say anything. Her glare deepened to a frown, and he turned back to the match.

As Miss Lovegood continued her dreamy commentary, Minerva leaned over and yelled into the girl's megaphone, "It's Cadwallader!" The crowd laughed, but Severus couldn't work out why.

Minerva looked at him again. "Yes, let's talk about other students, Severus," she nearly hissed at him. "Let's talk about Miss Lovegood, whom Filius recommended for this job because she's been having a problem with bullies, and he thought this might help her fit in, and I agreed to it, despite my better judgment. What do you have to say about her?"

He looked away, but she was clearly waiting for a response. So he gave her his best one. "I find that despite her nonsensical babbling, she has a more intuitive grasp of magic than most of her peers."

Minerva snorted. "Yes, Severus, we've all gathered that. But what about the girl-do you worry about her? Does she have any friends?"

"I-" _I saw her at the Christmas Party with Harry Potter._ God, he couldn't say that, not now. He clammed up.

"What about Miss Bell or Mr. Weasley, who were both nearly killed this year under very odd circumstances. What have you to say about that?"

Severus glowered in the opposite direction, but Minerva kept at it.

"Or let's even talk about Longbottom, who made an O on his Herbology O.W.L., but somehow only scraped a low A in Potions-a feat which I have never seen in all of my years of teaching! Would you like to discuss him, Severus?"

He didn't even know how to derail her when she got like this. It was like being yelled at by your mother, your big sister, and your teacher, all at the same time. And she had barely even raised her voice.

"Or what about Mr. Malfoy, who has certainly not been the same this year-not since his father was sent to Azkaban. He's made a point to not miss any more assignments, but he clearly has more pressing concerns than my essay about the Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law!

"Or even Albus! You should know more about his injury than the rest of us-it's clearly Dark Magic. I may not be an expert, Severus Snape, but I'm no fool, either-and you _must_ know about it, but do you ever even mention it?"

He finally turned to look at her. He kept his face blank. "Yes, you've made your point, Professor McGonagall. Thank you."

"I don't think I have, Professor Snape. When it comes to safe topics for discussion, I follow your lead-all in the name of friendship. But don't ever think that Harry Potter is my only concern. You-you!-made Harry Potter a safe topic to discuss. So we discuss him." She huffed and turned back to the game.

He shifted in his seat and remained silent. Minerva leaned over towards Miss Lovegood and yelled into the megaphone once again, "Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!"

She settled back into her seat.

"Potter is doing fine in Defense," he offered after a few moments.

She snorted. "It would be best if you stopped trying right now."

He almost made a retort, but her eyes widened and she stood up so fast she almost knocked him over. She cast at least three Cushioning Charms before he could even turn to see what had grabbed her attention.

It was Harry Potter, of course, bleeding profusely from a head wound, with the Gryffindor Beaters holding on to him and dropping him gently on the magically soft ground below.

At the sight of the bleeding Harry Potter, Severus's first thought was, "...but he must be killed by the Dark Lord!" He hated himself for it later.

* * *

In the following months, there were no more ridiculously lethal, if feeble, attempts on the headmaster's life. All of the Monitoring Charms on Draco remained quiet, though Severus diligently refreshed them at the beginning of each week.

And then, on a perfectly ordinary Thursday evening, just as Severus was about to enter the Great Hall for dinner, he felt a sort of rumbling that was not quite a sound, almost as if a Muggle helicopter were flying low overhead.

It seemed to take Severus a long while to process the feeling, but finally it came to him in a rush: it was the charm for the Unforgivable Curses. Draco had just tried to cast the Cruciatus Curse.

Severus could tell the boy was up a few floors, and he broke into a run, even as a second Monitoring Charm beat through his senses-this one alerting him that Draco was in mortal danger. He knocked a group of second-year Gryffindors aside on a staircase, and flew down a corridor as he heard screams from a door just ahead: "MURDER!" yelled the voice, "MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!" He burst into the boys' bathroom.

Moaning Myrtle was the one screaming. The one who had attempted murder was Potter.

Potter had used Sectumsempra on Draco Malfoy.

His aim had been good; Draco was bleeding profusely. For his part, Potter was white as a sheet and his mouth hung open stupidly as he knelt over the bleeding boy.

In a surge of vindictive protectiveness, Severus shoved Potter roughly aside and began the Healing Charm on Draco. It was a very near thing-if Severus had been a few minutes slower, not even Blood-Replenishing Potions could have helped. As it was, he had to perform the Healing Charm three separate times before the boy was even sensible. He helped Draco up so he could escort him to the hospital wing.

But first, he told Harry Potter to wait for him.

Luckily, Draco was in no fit shape for conversation, which left Severus to his own thoughts on the way to the hospital wing. Where had Potter learned that spell? That was _his_ spell, no one else's, and moreover, it was Dark Magic. Had he misjudged Potter that badly? Last year, if Potter had used Dark Magic on any number of people, Severus would have barely sneezed at it-but this year, Potter seemed to be on a much more even keel. Had the boy finally learned the art of deception? Was he finally burying his feelings, even practicing Occlumency?

Or-worse, much worse-had the part of the Dark Lord that lived in Potter taken hold? _A parasitic growth_ , Dumbledore had called it.

It was horrifying. Perhaps it would even be best to kill the boy now, even before he killed Dumbledore.

God, this year was getting to him.

But then, how did Potter even come across that particular spell? Severus could think of no possible way. And what drove him to use it? Draco, of course, attempted the Cruciatus Curse, but Severus put that aside. A true Gryffindor like Potter would repay the Cruciatus Curse with the Jelly-Legs Jinx, or some such nonsense-he had countered the Killing Curse with the fucking Disarming Charm, for fuck's sake. As much as Severus protested, he knew that Potter was not like his father. He would not use a spell like Sectumsempra.

And yet he had. He did. So Severus was wrong about something. And he was missing a rather big piece of the plot, given that Potter even knew the spell.

He deposited Draco in the hospital wing, and stayed long enough to ensure that there would be no lasting damage. And then Severus made his way back to the boys' bathroom. He reminded himself of the facts: Draco had tried to cast the Cruciatus Curse first. After that, he'd been in mortal danger. Whatever had led up to the Cruciatus, it had not been life-threatening. Draco had escalated.

But Potter had doubled down.

The moment Severus reentered the bathroom and banished the infernal Moaning Myrtle, Potter was already spouting something that sounded like an excuse. Severus was not interested. He had two questions that needed answering, and he hoped he would find honest answers to both of them. He hoped to get Potter properly angry first, because an emotional Potter was so easy to read.

"Apparently I underestimated you, Potter. Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you that spell?" he asked quietly.

But the boy wasn't angry at all, merely panicked. "I-read about it somewhere," he replied, with that pause Minerva once told him about. It seemed that any emotion at all made the boy so transparent he might as well be wearing his Invisibility Cloak.

"Where?"

"It was-a library book. I can't remember what it was call-"

Severus cut him off before it got even worse. "Liar," he said, and decided he had had enough of this conversation. He dipped into the boy's mind. He didn't have to dig deep: right on the surface was indeed a book-Potter's battered old copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ for which the boy felt a surge of affection, as if it had been given to him by a very dear friend.

"Bring me your schoolbag," Severus said, "and all of your schoolbooks. _All_ of them. Bring them to me here. Now!"

And Potter turned and left the bathroom without a word. He was gone for ten minutes, during which time Severus paced the bathroom and thought.

He had invented that spell in his sixth year, the same year he had buried himself in his books because he no longer had Lily. One of his favorite books had been _Advanced Potion-Making_ , and he had a habit of writing his thoughts in the margins of his books. It was the one benefit of having his mother's old hand-me-downs, and a way to make it feel like the books were really his instead of hers.

It was certainly possible that Severus had written that spell in that book. But then how would the book have come into Potter's hands? Severus had sold back some of his textbooks when he was younger, and the Weasley family certainly had their share of second-hand items, but Potter surely never did. Besides, Severus was certain he'd kept _Advanced Potion-Making_.

And then Severus remembered Slughorn praising Potter's Potions skills, and how the boy became evasive on the occasion. If the boy was using Severus's old book, with all its improvements and additions, his prowess in Potions could easily be explained.

Severus heard the pounding footsteps of someone sprinting full-out down the corridor. As the footsteps reached the bathroom door, they slowed and stopped, and Potter walked through the door, attempting to look calm but panting like he'd just run a mile. Severus rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor subterfuge, but something still didn't quite fit. These were not the actions of a boy capable of using Dark Magic to murder a schoolmate.

 _Parasitic growth_ , his brain supplied.

Well. One thing at a time. He demanded Potter's schoolbag, and pulled the books out one by one. Potter's copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ was brand new, and certainly not the one Severus had seen in his mind.

"This is your copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ , is it, Potter?" he asked.

"Yes," the boy panted.

"You're quite sure of that, are you, Potter?"

"Yes."

"This is the copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yes."

"Then why does it have the name 'Roonil Wazlib' written inside the front cover?"

Potter looked for a moment like he might throw up, but he gathered himself heroically to issue his worst lie yet. "That's my nickname," he said.

A small, detached, and slightly hysterical part of Severus understood that if he told this story to any of the other teachers over a glass or two of firewhiskey, they would all be roaring with laughter. Severus might even laugh with them-but that would be later. For now, he had to deal with a teenage boy who needed to be murdered. But not by him-and not yet.

Maybe he would have that glass or two of firewhiskey alone, later.

"Your nickname," he repeated, with remarkable restraint.

"Yeah...that's what my friends call me."

"I understand what a nickname is," he said, again with the remarkable restraint, but then decided to fuck it all and peek back into the boy's mind. There was a name, a nickname. _The Half-Blood Prince_.

Well. Son of a bitch. Potter hadn't been corrupted with Dark Magic by the Dark Lord; he'd been corrupted by a sixteen-year-old Severus Snape.

Severus distracted the boy with detentions and Quidditch taunts, which were such paltry distractions that even Potter would have probably been able to see through them, if he hadn't been in such a state himself. Severus left the bathroom before he could say anything truly stupid.

 _The Half-Blood Prince_. The name was jarring. Severus had made it up for himself as a sort of an apology to Lily-she may have been Muggle-born, but he was only a half-blood. It was a poor apology, one she never even heard because he never shared it, not with anyone. It was a nickname only in theory-because, as Potter had helpfully pointed out, a nickname is what your friends call you. Severus had had no friends.

But here was Harry Potter who knew the nickname, and felt a surge of affection for the boy who'd made it up. Severus had not mistaken that.

It was surreal.

He had no time to dwell on it; he needed to report the incident Minerva. He made his way back to the Great Hall, where she was finishing her dinner.

"Severus," she greeted him. "What's wrong?"

"I caught one of your students performing Dark Magic on another student. I've given him Saturday detentions for the rest of the year."

Minerva paled considerably. "Who was it?" she asked quietly.

He grunted. "Harry Potter."

He felt slightly bad for her; she looked woebegone. To her credit, she neither contradicted him nor made excuses for the boy. "Who was the other student?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, Severus! What happened? How is Mr. Malfoy? What spell did Potter use?"

He hedged a bit. "Draco is in the hospital wing, and will be fine. I can show you my memory, if you don't mind taking us to Dumbledore's office." For Dumbledore was once again absent from the school, and as Deputy Headmistress, Minerva had access to his office.

She agreed, and Severus showed her his memory from the time he burst into the bathroom to the time he left to take Draco to the hospital wing. When she came out of the Pensieve, she was shaken. "I'm glad you were so close by, Severus. You...you have grounds for expulsion."

Severus frowned. He'd been so caught up, he hadn't even thought about expelling the boy. It didn't matter anyway. "Dumbledore would never stand for the expulsion of Harry Potter."

"Hm," she said. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go lay into Potter."

"Godspeed," he said, after she'd already closed the door behind her.

The next morning, he cast the Eavesdropping Charm on Potter, set to activate if he or anyone around him mentioned the phrase "Half-Blood Prince." He could renew the charm every week, at the same time he renewed Draco's. He wondered how many charms he could cast at one time before someone noticed. Perhaps he should try it with hexes.

As useless as the charms had been for Draco, the one on Potter produced results just a few weeks later. That night, Severus was alone in his office marking papers when he clearly heard Miss Granger's voice say "Half-Blood Prince."

"Oh, not again," Potter groaned in reply. "Will you please drop it?"

Severus put down his quill and closed his eyes.

"I'm not dropping it," the girl said, and Severus blessed her, "until you've heard me out. Now I've been trying to find out a bit about who might make a hobby of inventing Dark spells-"

"He didn't make a hobby of it-"

"He, he-who says it's a he?"

"We've been through this! Prince, Hermione, _Prince_!"

"Right!" And there was a sound of paper being slapped onto a table. "Look at that! Look at the picture!"

There was a long pause, during which Severus could only imagine what the picture showed. Whatever it was, Potter seemed unimpressed.

"So?" he said.

"Her name was Eileen Prince. _Prince_ , Harry."

Severus's stomach dropped. This was going to go bad, quickly.

But then Potter burst out laughing. "No way," he said.

"What?" Miss Granger replied, but she didn't sound nearly as confused as Severus was.

"You think _she_ was the Half-Blood...? Oh, come on."

Severus frowned. Maybe Miss Granger hadn't yet made the connection, as unlikely as that seemed.

"Well, why not?" she said. "Harry, there aren't any real princes in the Wizarding world! It's either a nickname, a made-up title somebody's given themselves, or it could be their actual name, couldn't it? No, listen! If, say, her father was a wizard whose surname was Prince, and her mother was a Muggle, then that would make her a 'half-blood Prince'!"

"Yeah, very ingenious, Hermione..."

And it was. Thank goodness the girl stubbornly insisted the Prince in question was a woman. The genders were the only details she'd got wrong, really. She even knew one of the players.

"Listen, Hermione," Potter said. "I can tell it's not a girl. I can just tell."

Severus had no idea what he had written in that book. His handwriting could easily go either way, so what had he put in there that had Potter convinced? (God, he hoped it wasn't crude drawings of penises. Only teenaged boys ever doodled that, and Severus wasn't entirely certain he was immune to that brand of idiocy when he was sixteen.)

"The truth is that you don't think a girl would have been clever enough," said Miss Granger.

"How can I have hung round with you for five years and not think girls are clever?" he asked. Implicit in this discussion was the fact that both Potter and Miss Granger agreed that the Half-Blood Prince was clever. "It's the way he writes, I just know the Prince was a bloke, I can tell. This girl hasn't got anything to do with it. Where did you get this anyway?"

"The library. There's a whole collection of old _Prophets_ up there. Well, I'm going to find out more about Eileen Prince if I can."

"Enjoy yourself," Potter grumbled, half under his breath.

"I will. And the first place I'll look is records of old Potions awards!"

There was silence for a few moments, and Severus held his breath. Was the discussion over? Shit, how many _Daily Prophets_ would he have to remove from the library? If there was even the tiniest marriage announcement for Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape, Miss Granger would find it. And soon.

Finally, Weasley spoke. "She's just never got over you outperforming her in Potions," he said.

"You don't think I'm mad, wanting that book back, do you?" Potter said. (Had Potter lost the book?)

"'Course not," Weasley said. "He was a genius, the Prince. Anyway...without his bezoar tip...I wouldn't be here to discuss it, would I? I mean, I'm not saying that spell you used on Malfoy was great-"

"Nor am I."

"But he healed all right, didn't he? Back on his feet in no time."

Severus snorted. Draco would have died if Severus hadn't been monitoring him.

"Yeah," Potter said uncertainly. "Thanks to Snape..."

Severus was stunned that Potter would admit to it. He worried, suddenly, if Potter would wonder at how Severus knew the exact right charm to heal the wounds he had inflicted.

But Weasley was already speaking again. "You still got detention with Snape this Saturday?"

"Yeah, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that. And he's hinting now that if I don't get all the boxes done by the end of term, we'll carry on next year."

 _Hinting_? Severus had directly _told_ him as much during the last detention, in the emptiest threat he had ever given. There would likely not even _be_ a next year, for Severus or for Potter.

"Here, Harry. This is for you," said a male voice that Severus couldn't immediately place.

"Thanks Jimmy...Hey, it's from Dumbledore!" Severus perked up at the sound of parchment being unrolled. "He wants me to go to his office as quick as I can!"

"Blimey," Weasley whispered, "you don't reckon...he hasn't found..."

"Better go and see, hadn't I?" Potter replied, with much rustling and footsteps.

While Severus would have loved to find out what that was about, Dumbledore's office was heavily warded against Monitoring Charms. Severus hastily canceled the spell. He'd overheard quite enough, anyway.

Back in his sixth year, Severus had had that book instead of friends. And now, Harry Potter considered him a friend because of that very book. (Well, not _him_ , but a version of him-the lonely sixteen-year-old him.) Harry Potter, whose date to the Christmas Party had been Luna Lovegood.

Harry Potter, whose father was James Potter. The elder Potter had openly reviled Severus, mocked him for his scholarly pursuits, and had only dated the most popular girl in school. Now it seemed that the only things his son had inherited were his terrible hair, his terrible eyesight, and his pedestrian last name.

And soon, Severus would have to tell Harry Potter that he couldn't live if he wanted the Dark Lord to die. But first, the boy had to carry out some secret suicide mission that Dumbledore was foisting on him even now.

His own life might be a fucking joke, but sometimes he thought Potter's was high tragedy.


	9. Chapter 9

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _Like I didn't see it coming  
Like I didn't walk in willingly  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

Severus didn't have to worry about Hermione Granger discovering the true identity of the Half-Blood Prince. That very night, just as Severus finished his marking, Filius ran into his office in a panic. "Severus, come quick! Death Eaters have broken into the castle! Minerva's upstairs fighting them right now!"

Damn. Damn damn. Draco had made his move without even setting off a single fucking Monitoring Charm.

Well, the fewer people involved, the better. Ideally, everyone would be in bed and the Death Eaters would find no victims. Filius seemed intent on waking the whole castle, though, so Severus did the most expedient thing and Stunned him. He hurried out of his office, only to run into Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood, clearly posted as a feeble lookout.

He couldn't let them follow him upstairs. "Professor Flitwick has had a fit and passed out in my office," he told them in a rush. "Will you please tend to him while I get Madam Pomfrey?"

Miss Granger looked confused-Miss Lovegood merely mildly curious-so Severus gave more instructions to keep them from overthinking: "Stay with him until I return!"

He sprinted up the stairs, and as he reached the ground floor, his hopes of keeping people out of the fight were crushed. The scene was absolute chaos, with duels and fighting and students and a fucking werewolf, …

And Severus could not get in the middle of it. He had prior commitments that he had sworn his life to keep.

But Draco and Dumbledore were nowhere to be seen. He closed his eyes and focused his magic. He could feel something-Draco was trying to gather himself for an Unforgivable Curse, and Severus's Monitoring Charm rumbled like a distant drumbeat. The boy was on top of the Astronomy Tower.

Severus ran toward it.

When he reached the top of the tower, he took in the whole scene instantly. One: Draco had managed to corner Dumbledore-this was good, perhaps the Dark Lord wouldn't kill the boy after all. Two: Draco hadn't killed Dumbledore despite having the opportunity-this was not so good for Draco's immediate well-being, but if he could survive the short-term consequences of his failure, he was more likely to have a long and happy life. Three: Draco had failed his task in front of the most devastating witnesses-the Carrow twins, Greyback, and Bellatrix Fucking Lestrange. Four: the time to kill Dumbledore was obviously upon him-but that was hardly comforting in the moment. Five: there were two broomsticks on top of the tower. Two broomsticks, and of all the people present, only one hadn't arrived on foot-which meant there was someone else he could not see-which of course meant it was Potter, under his Invisibility Cloak.

But Dumbledore wasn't acting as if Potter would interfere with his murder, which meant that Potter was incapacitated. Severus could only hope he was unconscious, and not simply in a Body Bind.

He didn't have time to hesitate, and there were no options to mull over in any case. Severus cast the Killing Curse and gathered the others and made for the nearest exit...only to find himself pursued by Potter, whose blind rage could only mean that he had been conscious for the murder of the headmaster. That fucking idiot boy whose life was already forfeit but didn't know yet know it; that fucking idiot boy for whom Severus had just burned to the ground every last connection to every human being that he had built over the last fifteen years.

He had killed himself as effectively as he had Dumbledore. Severus Snape, Hogwarts Professor, was dead, and all that remained was Severus Snape, Death Eater, and no one-no one-could know that Severus Snape had a final mission to do for Dumbledore.

So when the boy came at him, Severus's own rage bordered on berserker. The boy's hexes had a surprising amount of power behind them, but each was predictable enough that Severus easily parried every one of them.

But instead of being thankful that Severus didn't simply flay him (which took great restraint, especially after he parried two Unforgivable Curses the boy attempted), Potter only got angrier. The boy called him a coward, and Severus turned in disgust to leave the scene. There was no need for this fight. The boy was not ready-in so many ways.

But before Severus could even signal to the others that it was time to go, Amycus Carrow hit Potter with the Cruciatus Curse. Severus roared and hit Amycus with a stinging hex-a part of him would have liked to use the Cruciatus Curse himself, but a larger part of him demanded mercy for reasons he didn't have time to fathom.

"Have you forgotten our orders?" Severus screamed at Amycus. "Potter belongs to the Dark Lord-we are to leave him! Go! Go!"

Thankfully, Rowle and the Carrows obeyed him and ran for the Apparition boundary. But before Severus could follow, Potter again tried to land a curse-this time, Sectumsempra. That the boy would attempt such a thing-Just like his father after all!-After Severus had spent the evening feeling _sorry_ for the boy!-and to do it now, at a moment when Severus had just betrayed everything and everyone and unwillingly murdered a man-Severus found himself in such a rage that he acted without thought. But before he could perform a major curse, Potter tried to cast Levicorpus, and Severus had to act so quickly that even he didn't know what hex he had used. Potter flew back and hit the ground hard, thankfully losing his wand.

That the boy would resort to the Half-Blood Prince's spells-as if they were his own secret weapon!-enraged Severus beyond measure. _Those are my spells_ , he wanted to yell. _Mine, and you have no right to them!_

"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them-I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so... _no_!"

For Potter had made a move for his wand, and Severus knocked it aside with a wordless spell.

"Kill me then," Potter said, but not in fear or resignation. No, he said it in a sanctimonious little snit. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward-"

Severus exploded. After all he had done-to be called coward by the likes of Harry Potter, who thought that bravery meant running out into the night-by himself-against an enemy he couldn't hope to defeat. And to demand that Severus kill him-because the boy didn't understand his role was to die by someone else's hand-Severus wasn't _allowed_ to kill him, even if he wished to.

But, oh, it wasn't yet time to tell the boy even that much.

Severus hit him with the worst whipping jinx he knew, but before he could cause lasting damage, he was driven off the castle grounds by that mad hippogriff.

Just as well, really, he thought. And he Disapparated.

* * *

He would have preferred a destination of his own choosing, but he could not delay in reporting to the Dark Lord. Luckily, his reputation of being a surly bastard served him well-even in a moment of triumph, his misanthropy was an accepted fact. Therefore very few people figuratively patted him on the back, and no one did it literally. He answered the Dark Lord's questions directly, but let others embellish details as they wished.

Draco was mainly left alone. He was asked to recount what he had done, which was an enlightening tale for Severus. The Dark Lord congratulated the boy for accomplishing what he had, then subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse for his failure. Afterward, Bellatrix also attempted to Cruciate Draco, but Severus saw Narcissa flick her wand just before Bellatrix changed her mind and walked away.

After he himself had received the Dark Lord's highest praise, Severus was allowed to leave.

He went to Spinner's End. And finally he could reflect on how badly things had gone tonight.

First of all, when Severus agreed to murder Dumbledore, he never imagined that children would witness it. Draco may have joined the Death Eaters, but he hadn't seen a murder before tonight. And Potter...Potter had already seen enough murder that it was possible he would never recover-and Severus felt this most recent experience would be worse than the others. Dumbledore had insisted that Potter's greatest strength was his ability to love-how could the boy continue to do so, when everyone he loved was taken from him so cruelly? How could Dumbledore not see how foolish it was to leave Potter conscious, if Potter had to be there at all?

And then Severus realized that the headmaster had probably planned to have Potter witness the deed. It would be useful for Severus's cover if the boy hated him without reserve, and this was a simple route to that end.

Besides, if witnessing Dumbledore's death made the boy more reckless, depressed, and suicidal, that would serve to make him more willing to accept his final fate. But Dumbledore had hinted at a difficult task-one the boy must accomplish before Severus told him this last great secret-how could Potter have the will to carry out a difficult task, then also have the will to end his own life?

As for Draco, the headmaster would probably have argued that it was best that Draco know what it truly meant to join the Death Eaters. As if the boy had had any choice in the matter.

And how many other people had been murdered tonight? Severus had no time to do a body count, but he'd noticed several immobile forms strewn throughout the corridors of Hogwarts.

And this brought him to an uncomfortable fact: Draco had unleashed killers on his schoolmates. Fenrir Fucking Greyback had been among them.

And then there was the Half-Blood Prince.

When he thought about how Potter had used the Half-Blood Prince's spells against him, he still felt a swoop of anger in his belly. But a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Minerva told him, "He saved those spells for last for a reason, you foolish man. He thought they were his best ones. You should be flattered."

 _But he used them against me._

Head-Minerva scoffed at him. "You had just murdered his last remaining father figure on this earth, you dimwit. Yes, I imagine he threw every hurtful spell he could think of at you."

He crossed his arms and pointedly ignored Head-Minerva. She got the point and stayed quiet.

As he sat in his chair and stared at the smoldering fire in his grate, he considered asking the Minerva in his head if she could forgive him for what he'd done that night. Then he wondered if he might be losing his mind a little bit.


	10. Chapter 10

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _If you ain't got nothing good to say  
don't say nothing at all  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

Severus soon found himself in the unenviable position of needing to have a conversation with a dead man. Luckily, the dead man in question had a highly intelligent portrait. Unluckily, that portrait was hung in a school whose inhabitants would not be pleased to see Severus. At least he could enter the castle grounds using the portal Dumbledore had made for him. Still, in retrospect, it would have been easier to have another portrait of Dumbledore painted.

It was too late for that now. He stole into the castle grounds at night on the weekend-it was cliché, but it was his best chance of avoiding detection. The front doors opened to him, but he didn't go directly to the Headmaster's Office. Instead, he climbed up to the seventh-floor corridor, and paced in front of a blank stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

 _I need to sneak into Dumbledore's office,_ he thought with each pass. After the third repetition, a plain wooden door formed in front of him. When he opened it, it revealed a narrow passageway lit with torches. Severus followed it as it led him down winding staircases and twisting turns. When he finally came to a door, he hesitated behind it. But he heard no voices on the other side, and so slipped silently through and found himself in a dark corner of Dumbledore's old office. He could see from his vantage point that the office was empty. He sighed in relief, and stepped into the office proper.

"Severus!" a voice cried from behind him. "It's good to see you, my friend! I didn't know my office had an entrance on that side!"

Dumbledore's voice was loud and carried; Severus slipped back into the shadows on instinct.

"Oh, there's no need for the cloak and dagger routine," another portrait said. "The office has been sealed until such time as the Board of Governors appoints a new head."

Severus hadn't thought of that. He'd imagined that Minerva would have already moved in.

"Which makes me wonder how you were able to enter," Dumbledore said.

"I needed to," Severus replied.

"Most interesting!" Dumbledore said, clearly delighted.

"Very much so!" said yet another portrait. "We've been quite bored, you see. We've been sleeping most of the time, which gets quite tiring, even for portraits, and -"

Severus interrupted. "I needed to speak to you directly, Headmaster."

At least a dozen portraits said in unison, "Concerning what?"

Dumbledore's portrait looked at Severus and smiled. "I'm afraid that about half of us respond to that title, Severus. I assume you mean to speak to me?"

Severus found himself wishing more than ever that he had his own portrait of Dumbledore. The two men had had many private conversations in this very room, and Severus had never considered that the walls were listening. Of course, before...Before...the portraits had been loyal to Dumbledore. Their loyalty now was in question.

He needed to proceed with more caution than usual.

"The plan succeeded," he said carefully. "But I cannot rest on my laurels. To gain the trust of my associates, I need more." It was as much as he was willing to say. In order to remain useful as Dumbledore's agent, he needed to maintain his status as the Dark Lord's spy. To this end, he'd already told the Dark Lord that he had a confidential informant-he begged to let it remain secret, but he'd let the image of Aberforth Dumbledore to the front of his mind-and the Dark Lord had seemed pleased. Severus had picked Aberforth deliberately: the Dark Lord understood the betrayal of a family member, and would be so pleased at the betrayal of Albus's own brother that he wouldn't question motives.

But now he needed to somehow get real information from his false confidential informant.

Dumbledore nodded. "You will have to give the correct date of Harry's departure from his aunt and uncle's," he said, and Severus blanched at the portrait's bald declaration in front of so many witnesses-never mind the actual content of Dumbledore's suggestion.

"I had not intended to gamble so much, Dumbledore," he said. However, there weren't too many things he could do that would work better to solidify his position as a loyal Death Eater. After all, he had already murdered Dumbledore. To turn over the Boy Who Lived on top of that? He supposed he should go big or go home.

"Not to do so will raise suspicion, when Voldemort believes you so well informed," Dumbledore pointed out. He then outlined appropriate safety measures, and Severus had to admit it could work.

But he didn't like having the conversation in front of the other portraits. He supposed that the portrait of Dumbledore was _Dumbledore_ enough to be discreet, but he still worried what would happen when Minerva was officially named Headmistress and the portraits became loyal to her. He never spoke with Dumbledore explicitly about the next school year, but they both supposed that the Dark Lord would have enough clout on the Board of Governors to ensure that Severus was hired back on as a professor, most likely for Potions again. Minerva was the obvious candidate for Headmistress, and it was best all around if she continued to outwardly distrust Severus. The only way someone like Minerva could outwardly distrust Severus was if she inwardly distrusted him as well, so he didn't need the portraits blabbing all his secrets to her on her first day in office.

Unfortunately, he couldn't confront Dumbledore with his fears; not in front of the other portraits. So he took his leave without breathing a word of his concerns. As he faded into the dark corner, and reached for a door that hadn't existed before tonight, Dumbledore called out to him, "I expect we'll be seeing more of you soon, Severus!"

That was unlikely, as Severus had no intention of sneaking back in, but he nodded anyway.

Back in Spinner's End, it occurred to him that his conversation with Dumbledore was his most open conversation with anyone since he'd killed the man, and even so, he couldn't shed all subterfuge because of all the other dead people listening in.

He decided he was well and truly paranoid.

But later, on the night when he turned over information which might lead to the death of Harry Potter, he watched the Dark Lord claim Lucius Malfoy's wand and use it to murder Charity Burbage. On that night, he decided he wasn't nearly paranoid enough. ("Severus...please," she'd said, just like Dumbledore. "Severus...please.") And then the Dark Lord sent Nagini to clean up the mess, a clear sign that Severus's role was still necessary.

The rest of the summer passed in a haze of bad news and worse news. At least Harry Potter survived the transfer to the Weasleys' (although there were a few heart-stopping moments when Severus thought he might have accidentally murdered the boy himself-a Sectumsempra straight to the head?-until Yaxley flew in, screaming "The real Potter is with the half giant! They're headed west!"-good, so then Severus had only murdered some damn fool posing as a decoy).

Later, when the Ministry fell, Death Eaters immediately descended on the Burrow but didn't find any evidence that Potter had ever been there. Good, so the Order had finally learned caution.

But when August had almost passed, and the Board of Governors had already approved changes in their attendance policy (purebloods and half-bloods were required to attend, while Muggle-borns were banned) still no one had officially named Minerva as headmistress, and Severus was still not guaranteed a teaching position for the next year.

On 30th August, it finally occurred to Severus that the reason Minerva hadn't been picked was because the Board was not going to pick her. They were going to pick a Death Eater. This thought struck him as he was getting ready for bed, and he didn't sleep all night. What if they picked a Death Eater for head, but didn't name him Potions Master? After all, Slughorn might decide to stay on, and the only openings would be for Defense (which Severus would be unable to teach, and if he tried, he'd be dead within hours, surely)-and Muggle Studies, of course, which would probably be dropped as a subject, and which Severus wasn't qualified to teach, anyway. He didn't know how he was going to keep his promise to Dumbledore.

The next morning, he was summoned to the Dark Lord's side. "Severus, I have good news," the Dark Lord greeted him, but Severus doubted this very much. "The Hogwarts Board of Governors has finally approved you for headmaster."

"That is good news indeed, my Lord," Severus said, without really understanding.

"You must, of course, go to Hogwarts immediately and meet with the teachers. Term does start tomorrow, after all! And the Carrows will be taking up posts in Muggle Studies and Dark Arts."

Severus nodded, but began to wonder what he was agreeing to. He finally started to parse some of the words the Dark Lord had spoken. When he did, his stomach dropped to the floor and his eyes started watering. He forced himself to blink. _Me?,_ he thought helplessly. _Me?_

He really made a shit spy, not seeing this coming.

"...be in touch, but I assume you'll want to leave right away."

"Yes of course, my Lord." _I should say something else here,_ he thought. _Something practical, like I saw this coming, like I'm in control_. "I hope the Carrows will come with me-it will make a stronger impression," he said, and almost breathed a sigh of relief at how perfect that was. He was still a shit spy, but if he covered it well enough, no one else had to know.

"Naturally-I've already informed them. They will meet you in Hogsmeade in ten minutes."

Oh, ten minutes was plenty of time to wrap his head around a promotion he was ill-suited for, and then face a room full of former colleagues whose trust he had betrayed so thoroughly just three months ago, and who would now be working under him.

He said, "That is perfect my Lord," because it had to be.

He took his leave, and Bellatrix escorted him out. She grinned widely at him. "Severussss," she told him, "I've always wanted to teach Charms. See what you can do for me, hm?" And she cackled.

* * *

Ten minutes was enough to realize that the Dark Lord had been trying to make him stumble-perhaps as some sort of test-and that Dumbledore had seen this coming. His portrait had said he'd _see him soon_ , which had been an obvious enough clue, had Severus been a better spy.

But he had a part to play, and he was going to play it.

Fifteen minutes later, Severus strode in to the Great Hall at Hogwarts like a conquering hero. He held his head high, with a Carrow twin on each side and slightly behind. He announced to the staff gathered there: "We shall meet in one hour in the staff room. Alert those who are not here." He met Minerva's eye and deliberately smirked at her. Predictably, she puffed up and turned red. He snapped around and strode out of the hall.

At the staff meeting, Severus sat at the head of the table, again with the Carrow twins on either side of him. "Introductions first," he said calmly. "This is Amycus Carrow, who will be teaching Dark Arts." He paused and silently dared them all to mention the subject's name change. But the teachers were silent, so he continued, "And here is Alecto Carrow, who will be teaching Muggle Studies-in case you haven't yet heard, Charity Burbage recently...resigned." He paused while the Carrows snickered and his former colleagues were as still as if they'd been hit with a Full-Body Bind.

"Now," he said, "should any of the rest of you wish to...resign, please let me know immediately, as I need to fill your post before tomorrow morning." Filius met his eyes and nodded, but Minerva still looked murderous, so before she said anything, Severus decided to put a finer point on his declaration. "Make no mistake: every one of you can be replaced. I've had several qualified people making inquiries on open positions already."

Minerva looked thunderstruck, and looked at Filius and Pomona in alarm. Even Trelawney nodded at him in terror. Good, then. They all understood what was at stake. He had come close enough to saying, "MINERVA, IF YOU QUIT, YOU WILL BE REPLACED BY A DEATH EATER."

Getting Minerva to understand that was critical. Severus could not have a Death Eater in charge of Gryffindor House-the idiot Gryffindors would invite their own murders before the start-of-term feast. As it was, he could only hope that Minerva would not do the same. Perhaps she could talk to Filius-he would surely be able to talk her down from histrionics.

He dismissed the teachers, and instructed the Carrows to walk the corridors and grounds and take note of anything unusual-simply to get them out of his hair. Meanwhile, he took the opportunity to move into the headmaster's rooms. Thankfully, the portraits remained silent, perhaps picking up on his mood for once. Maybe their first clue was when walked into the office, sat behind the desk, and immediately buried his face in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.

Even if conditions had been ideal, Severus was not suited for the job of headmaster. He hated children-hated having to tell them what to do. The only thing he hated worse was having to tell adults what to do.

But the conditions were...somewhat less than ideal.

But he had a role to play, and at least Albus's plan had worked; at least Severus would be able to fulfill his promise. At least he could protect the students.

He collected himself and squared his shoulders. He placed both of his hands flat on Dumbledore's desk- _his_ desk, now.

Dumbledore cleared his throat behind him. "There is still much work to be done," he said quietly.

"I know that," Severus replied without inflection and without turning to look.

"Severus, I had hoped to save you from a particular job, but the deadline has passed and my plan did not work. So you must deliver the sword of Gryffindor to Harry."

Severus took two very deliberate breaths. Then, silently, slowly, he turned to look directly at the portrait.

Dumbledore looked chastised. "...at your earliest possible convenience, of course."

"Of course," Severus said, and showed Dumbledore his back.

The rest of the day was a blur. He had seemingly endless bits of administrative duties; he had to sign off on everything from booklists to new Quidditch captains, from class schedules to room assignments, from dormitory passwords to breakfast menus. During a three hour period, Sybill Trelawney stopped by four different times to complain about four different things. Each time, he tried to dismiss her as quickly as possible.

"Sybill, sort out your own problems," he'd said; then, "Sybill, I don't care about your curriculum. Leave." Then, finally, after the fourth time, "Professor Trelawney, if you come back to this office, I will curse you." After that, he almost hoped she'd return, but she didn't. Perhaps she _could_ divine the future, given enough hints.

On top of everything else, he had to hold a press conference. A press conference! He didn't know how much his new job paid, but he suspected that it wasn't enough.

He wished he'd slept the night before.

He went to the Great Hall for dinner that night, and found the Carrows already there, flanking the high seat. He was grateful for that; he didn't want to have to sit by Minerva, who was still technically his Deputy Headmistress. He took his seat between the twins and greeted them. "Did you find everything in order?" he asked.

"Mostly," grunted Amycus. "Jes that damn fool Hagrid. Roundin' up thestrals, he was. Said he needed them to pull the school carriages tomorrow night. I asked him, I says, 'Why don't you use the carriages that pull themselves, like when we was in school,' but he didn't answer me."

Alecto shuddered on Severus's other side. "Those thestrals are creepy. And rotten luck. I would'a put a stop to it myself, but I dint want to get too close, no sir."

"Yes, Professor Hagrid has always had a fondness for dangerous beasts," Severus said.

Minerva-Professor McGonagall-on the other side of Alecto, snorted inelegantly.

"You got somethin' to say, you old bint?" Alecto asked her.

"No, Alecto," she said. "Not a thing."

"No, I don't suppose you would," Alecto said, and turned away.

* * *

The Welcoming Feast, such as it was, was the next night. Minerva-Professor McGonagall-led in a very small group of first years who were Sorted in eerie silence.

Severus stood to give his prepared speech, and felt unaccountably nervous. There was no need for it-it was no different from standing in front of a classroom-except that he was speaking in front of every student in the school, whose parents were Death Eaters, or else members of the Order, or maybe even neutral-and in front of all the teachers-and everyone- _everyone_ -was judging him. He buried his nerves under his Occlumency, and began his speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said, because he literally could not think of a different opening line. Still, it was the most direct lie he'd told in a long while. "You've no doubt already noticed some changes this year. Returning students will recognize me as Potions Master, or Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I will be taking over as Headmaster this year. In addition, Professor Carrow," he indicated Amycus on his right, "will be taking over Dark Arts, and Professor Carrow," he indicated Alecto on his left, "will be taking over Muggle Studies, which is now compulsory for all students.

"This year will be challenging for many of you. Your parents may be fighting on different sides of the war. But know this: your magical blood has bought all of you a place in this school. Use this year to learn, to study, and become better witches and wizards."

That was the end of his speech, but everyone was still looking at him as if he failed to deliver some cue.

"...Thank you," he said, and sat back down.

There was tepid applause and the food was served. "Didja notice who didn't show?" Alecto asked him as she grabbed for a chicken leg. "The Weasley boy. Rob, I think it is."

Severus frowned before he could stop it, but quickly buried the expression. But honestly, did Alecto really expect Ronald Weasley to make an appearance? Despite the fact the boy was a mediocre student, he was not entirely gormless-unlike the two people flanking him at the moment. Honestly, Alecto may as well have made note of Harry Potter's absence.

"He might be with Potter," Amycus said, and Severus barely managed to keep his eyes from rolling.

"You know, I think I remember seeing a report that he was sick or something," Alecto said. "Weasley, I mean."

"I should make a home visit, to verify the story," Severus said, hoping to beat them to the punch.

"Good, let's go tonight," Alecto said.

"I hardly need an escort," Severus said, annoyed.

"Lor, we wouldn't miss it," Amycus said.

A home visit-especially unannounced, at night-would strike fear in the hearts of the Order. But Severus hoped the Weasleys were prepared.

It was nearly midnight when Severus Apparated to the Burrow along with Alecto and Amycus. The Weasleys were surprised out of their beds, but Severus was pleased that they at least had a cover story for their youngest son, even if it was a flimsy one. Spattergroit, they said, and showed their guests an unfortunate soul, moaning in Ron Weasley's bed in the attic room of the house. Alecto and Amycus backed away quickly-Severus did, too, but he saw enough to determine that, whatever it was, the creature impersonating Ronald Weasley was a pretty poor imitation. But he supposed that if anyone voiced that criticism, Molly and Arthur could claim that the spattergroit was disfiguring. The Carrows grumbled the whole way back downstairs, where Severus was honestly delighted to see that, on the Weasley family clock, the hand marked "Ron" was pointing to "Ill." He suspected Molly had something to do with that, and thought it was a nice detail for her to have taken care of.

"See that?" he asked the Carrows as he pointed to the clock. "We could have saved ourselves the trip upstairs."

Arthur looked startled, but Molly gently put her hand on his arm. The Carrows didn't notice the exchange.


	11. Chapter 11

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _Here's what I find about compromise-  
Don't do it if it hurts inside  
'Cause either way you're screwed  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

The students were perfect little shits, every one of them. On the morning of the first day of classes, Severus stepped outside his rooms to find a message painted on the wall opposite the stone gargoyles: "DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY: STILL RECRUITING." He was so offended that, without thinking, he tried to Vanish the message, which of course only changed the color of the paint from blue to neon yellow. After he threw a few Identification Charms at the paint, he erased the message completely.

In the Great Hall, there was doxy powder on his chair. He Vanished it before he sat. His eggs were so over-salted that they were inedible. When the Carrows rose from the table, he noticed the backside of their robes smoking slightly from the doxy powder in their own chairs.

No one looked at him all morning.

When he went back to his office after breakfast, he found that someone had released a niffler there, which had already torn apart several things that Severus could no longer recognize, and was currently attacking the gilded frame of Castro Parmer, Headmaster from 1704 to 1717-and who was screaming for Severus to save him. After he'd forced the niffler into a hastily conjured cage, he demanded that the portraits tell him who came in his office.

"But Severus," Beatrice Armstrong (Headmistress, 1543-1591) said, "we didn't see anyone. The niffler seemed to come in from that same door you used this summer!"

"Well, fuck that," Severus said, and conjured a brick wall in the corner. "I need to go fix something," he said, and left the office again, this time heading for the seventh-floor corridor. When he arrived at the blank wall, he paced in front of it, thinking furiously, "I need to seal my office against intruders."

The same plain wooden door appeared after his third pass, and he entered the passageway lit only by torches. At the end of the passageway he found the door to his office, presumably. He opened it up and found a solid brick wall on the other side. _I need this to be accessible only to me_ , he thought as he closed the door. Even as he thought it, he wondered what would happen if someone "needed" another door to his office. _I need to keep the students out of my office_ , he thought. Something caught his eye down in the corner by the door. Bending down, he found an enormous lock with a key sticking out of the bottom. He turned the key and the lock sprang open. _This will do_ , he thought, and swung over a catch on the door that he hadn't noticed before, and hooked the lock through. He closed it and took the key. _I need this to be the only key_.

As he left the Room of Requirement, he felt pretty proud of himself, until he reached his office again and found Pomona-Professor Sprout-waiting for him by the stone gargoyles with Theodore Nott. Nott's face was covered with great, flapping bats. "Severus, I'm glad you're here," Professor Sprout said.

"You may address me as 'Headmaster' or 'Professor Snape,' thank you," Severus said. It was easier for him to keep his roles straight if they weren't so familiar with each other.

"Yes, of course, Severus," she replied, without any indication that she was being rebellious, which was one of the problems with Hufflepuffs. It was possible that she didn't mean anything by it. "I'm sorry to bother you with this, but Miss Bones-Susan Bones?-she's one of mine-she cursed Mr. Nott here with the Bat Bogey Hex during my class-which I understand is a problem, and trust me when I say that I will deal with that-but Mr. Nott responded by casting the Cruciatus Curse. The Cruciatus Curse, Severus! An Unforgivable, in my classroom, on another student! I called Poppy right over, but I think Miss Bones'll be fine-she was just a little unsteady."

For fuck's sake. How would a Death Eater react to this situation? And didn't Professor Sprout remember Severus in particular for his own Unforgivable Curse, that he just so happened to cast on Dumbledore? And he couldn't even scowl properly at Professor Sprout with those great flapping bat wings so close to him.

The proper course of action eluded him, so he took care of the most immediately annoying problem first: he ended the curse on Nott, who seemed both grateful and sheepish. This somehow did not improve Severus's mood. "Why didn't you remove the hex at once?" he snapped at Professor Sprout.

"Well, I thought you might want proof that Mr. Nott was provoked, at least!"

"So he was." He turned to Nott. "In the future, you will leave punishment to those in charge. You will serve a detention with me. And Professor Sprout, Miss Bones will also serve her detention with me."

Professor Sprout looked thunderstruck, which Severus had never seen on her before. "Detention, Severus? For the Cruciatus? And I already told you-I will take care of Miss Bones."

"You will not. You will have her report to my office, tonight after dinner, and Nott, you will do the same. Dismissed." He swept into his office and was thankful when the door slammed behind him. Until it occurred to him that he had two students for detention tonight, and nothing for them to do. Well, he still had hours to dream something up.

Unfortunately, he knew he lacked the proper perspective for this sort of thing. Based on Professor Sprout's reaction, casting the Cruciatus Curse was pretty bad, but if Miss Bones had honestly thought she'd be subjected to anything less, she was a fool.

He traveled up the circular staircase to his office, and was greeted immediately by Dumbledore. "Severus, I realize that you may be busy, but we really do need to discuss the sword of Gryffindor. It is imperative that you deliver it to Harry Potter as soon as possible."

Oh, well that was just _fine_. "I'd be happy to do that for you, Albus," he said, resolving on the spot to be on a first-name basis with the portrait. "I'll just gift-wrap it and send it along with a school owl, shall I?" It was ludicrous-who knew where the boy was hiding. He could be anywhere.

Anywhere.

"Phineas Nigellus Black!" he said suddenly.

"Yes, Headmaster Snape?"

"Go to your portrait at Grimmauld Place. Let me know if Harry Potter is there now, or has been there recently."

"Yes, Headmaster."

And Phineas exited frame left. But he returned a very short time later, looking distinctly green. "I'm sorry, Headmaster," he said, and sicked up just outside the frame. He turned back to Severus, wiping his mouth. "My other portrait has been moved-it appears to be a room full of...clothes, and books, and bottles...no doors, no windows...and it was...moving in a most unpredictable manner. I heard voices, but I couldn't make anything out before I had to...leave." He heaved again, but didn't bring anything up.

That was...odd. "It was moving, like it was on a ship?" he asked Phineas Nigellus, who frowned and heaved again.

"Not sure," he said, after he'd recovered. "Never been on a ship."

Well, that cleared nothing up. But perhaps this meant that Potter had been at Grimmauld Place, and had taken the portrait with him.

* * *

By dinner that day, there were six more fights among students. At least no more fights involved Unforgivable Curses, but that was hardly a comfort. One student had been hit with a leglocker curse at the top of a staircase, and after she had finished falling, she had two broken wrists and a cracked skull. Another student (who by all accounts, had been a mere bystander) had been too close to the bust of Paracelsus when it was hit by a Reductor Curse, and Madam Pomfrey was still working to salvage the young boy's sight.

It had to be the worst first day ever in the history of Hogwarts.

Severus did not take over any other detentions; he still had not decided what to do for the two detentions that he would administer in half an hour.

At dinner in the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall leaned over Alecto to address Severus.

"Pomona informs me that the punishment for the Cruciatus Curse is a detention, Severus."

"You will address me as 'Headmaster' or 'Professor Snape,' thank you," he said.

Her entire face pulled into a thin line, but otherwise she ignored this declaration. "I should say I'm not surprised," she said, in a voice that was not quite steady, "not when the punishment for the Killing Curse is a promotion." She stood and left the Great Hall, and Severus did his best to ignore her.

When Miss Bones and Nott appeared at his office door after dinner, Severus put them on opposite sides of his office and erected a barrier between them. Really, he didn't know what possessed him to have both students in his office at the same time-it was honestly a terrible idea. He set them both lines-he couldn't even say what he'd made them write-he didn't care and it didn't matter, as there was really no appropriate way to punish anyone at this point. He wanted to make them write, "We're all fucked and we might as well not fight each other about it anymore." He tried to make up some sort of suitable alternative to this idealized phrase, but it was unlikely that either student understood the underlying message.

Meanwhile, he took care of paperwork at his desk, and thought about the near-riot state the students were in. God, he had to bring them in line, and fast. If the students kept on the way they were going, someone would be murdered in their beds before the week was out. He had sworn to protect the children of Hogwarts-but when he made the promise, he hadn't thought that he'd have to protect them from _each other_. He'd been pessimistic, sure, yet still unfortunately naïve.

Coming up with a plan, he sent messages out to the teachers to meet in the staff room at ten-thirty, which gave the miscreants on hand plenty of time to write however many useless lines he had set them.

He arrived at the staff room two minutes late, and found everyone already in attendance. "Good evening," he told them. "I'm sure you noticed that we had a rocky start to the term, and I have no wish for the pattern to continue. I believe that a firm disciplinary hand will help end student restlessness. To that end, I am putting Amycus and Alecto Carrow in charge of all punishment at Hogwarts. Should any student misbehave for any reason, it is your duty to refer them to one or both of the Carrows for appropriate disciplinary action. Heads of House, please inform your students as soon as possible. This policy goes into effect immediately."

The professors stared at him in disbelief-except for the Carrows, who looked like Christmas had come early. The pair were clearly unbalanced, and he sincerely hoped that the threat of being punished by them would curtail wrongdoing. To put a fine point on it for any of his staff who might need it, he said to the Carrows, "You have free rein over any student referred to your care. I would just hope that you don't spill too much magical blood."

Alecto actually giggled. "I think we can stick to that, fer some definitions of 'too much.'"

The hairs on the back of Severus's neck stood up, but he didn't react.

"S-Severus," Professor Sprout said, but Severus held up his hand.

"One more point of order. You will address me as 'Headmaster' or 'Professor Snape' at all times, is that clear?"

Silence rang out for a few uncomfortable moments.

"Yes, Headmaster," Professor Flitwick finally said. With that, everyone stood to leave. Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout were both gray; Professor Flitwick dexterously escorted both of the taller women out.

And thus ended Severus's first full day as Headmaster of Hogwarts. One down, an unknown number to go. He just had to hold on until some nebulous time in the future when the Dark Lord started to fear for the life of his snake.

When the staff room emptied out, he took several deep breaths, but refused to betray any other emotional response. And if he had to carry on with his deep breathing for several minutes...well, there was just nothing for it.

* * *

Over the next several weeks, Professors McGonagall and Sprout avoided him altogether. Professor Flitwick only met his eye warily, and on those occasions it seemed accidental.

The Carrows were predictably ruthless. As horrible as the students were inclined to be toward each other, the Carrows were worse. This did have the desired effect of cutting back on student fights, but once the Carrows' bloodlust was whetted, there was no stopping them.

Severus refused to let himself regret anything.

He would have thought that he would miss Minerva, as she had probably been the closest thing to a friend he'd had before...Before. But Professor McGonagall's cold distance helped him remember who he was supposed to be. In fact, he was pleased that she was outdoing herself in making his subterfuge easy. The Carrows took great delight in needling her; she rose magnificently into righteous indignation; the Carrows responded with open mockery-and while all this noise was being made, no one noticed if Severus happened to take over an occasional detention.

He couldn't save them all, but he supposed that even Professor McGonagall's righteous indignation had its limits. One day, Alecto hit Lavender Brown with the Cruciatus Curse during Muggle Studies. At lunch, Alecto justified her actions to Severus, loudly declaring, "I asked a question, and that girl gave me an answer that...dissatisfied me." Alecto smirked and Severus smirked back. That night, Severus walked up to the Astronomy Tower, as he sometimes did-the place where, in the privacy of his own thoughts, he imagined that this whole journey had started-and wished the journey would just fucking end already. On this night, he caught a glimpse of a cat, sitting rigidly, regally-as only a cat could do, with her tail wrapped around her. Severus did not look directly at her, and pretended not to see. Instead, he leaned over the parapet and looked up at the stars for a quarter of an hour or so.

As far as he could tell, the cat didn't move.

He and Minerva had once had a conversation about what it was like for her to turn into a cat. She had told him that she maintained her higher reasoning, but her emotions were blunted. She felt neither great joy nor great sorrow. "As a cat, I can be dispassionate," she'd said. "I've never quite been able to manage that as a human." Severus was glad that Professor McGonagall at least had that refuge.

When he left, the cat wasn't where she had been, but Severus suspected she was still nearby.

* * *

Each miserable day was followed by another, but somehow Severus managed to keep everyone alive without any major scares until mid-October. On a Sunday evening, he was walking to his office with Amycus on his heels, who was happily discussing his new plan for Dark Arts training (which was truly demented-but Severus only nodded and smirked), when he quite literally ran into Miss Weasley, Longbottom, and Miss Lovegood. They were emerging from his office door, and Miss Weasley was obviously concealing something behind her back. The students froze.

"Wot's this then?" Amycus said, but didn't wait for an answer. He backhanded Miss Weasley, who threw out her hands to catch her balance, and dropped _the fucking sword of Gryffindor._ "Stealing from the headmaster?" Amycus roared, and drew his wand.

Severus quickly put his hand on Amycus's arm. "Let's move this out of the corridor, shall we?" he said, mainly just to stall the inevitable.

"Certainly," Amycus said, and bound all three children with a single _Incarcerous_ , and dragged them onto the moving stone staircase, up to Severus's office.

Severus grabbed the sword and followed. He needed to act quickly. The idiot children had forced his hand-and they would pay a dear price for it, Severus couldn't help that-but they also presented him with an opportunity. He could think of only one reason they would try to steal the sword of Gryffindor-and he was going to take advantage of that.

When they arrived at the office, Amycus handed over all three of the students' wands. Severus hadn't even noticed him taking the wands-however little intelligence Amycus possessed, he was ruthlessly efficient at incapacitating others.

Severus took the wands and strode over to his desk, where he opened a warded drawer and retrieved a small bottle of Veritaserum. As Severus tucked the vial into his pocket, Amycus pointed his wand at Miss Weasley and said, " _Crucio!"_

Miss Weasley shrieked, and Longbottom and Miss Lovegood, both still bound to her, stumbled and shouted for Amycus to stop. But they could do nothing useful for their friend; the best they could hope for was to not fall over on top of Miss Weasley as she writhed uncontrollably. They failed of course; they were bound too tightly to prevent it. When they fell, Amycus lifted the curse and turned to Severus. "What are you going to do with them, Sev?" he asked eagerly.

"I'm going to question them. Individually. Miss Weasley first." Perhaps Amycus would leave the others alone-he did seem fixated on the Weasley girl. Best to take her first. He removed Amycus's restraints and pulled Miss Weasley out from under her classmates, grabbing her arm and guiding her firmly into a smaller room off the main office.

The girl was still dazed and slightly teary. "W-what do you want?" she said. She had tried to sound gruff, and if not for the stammer, she would have succeeded. She had a fat lip that would have been comical under other circumstances.

"The truth, Miss Weasley," he said, and, grabbing her by the hair, forced her head back and put a single drop of Veritaserum on her tongue. It was a small dose and would wear off quickly. She immediately slumped in the chair and her eyes glazed over. "Why did you take the sword of Gryffindor?" he asked.

"Because it doesn't belong to you," she said, flatly.

"Who does it belong to?"

"Harry."

"You were going to give it to him?"

"Yes."

"Where is Harry Potter?"

"I don't know."

Severus's next question caught in his throat. "What?"

"I don't know."

"You-you risked your _life_ to steal a sword for Harry Potter, and you can't even deliver it to him?"

"We didn't think that far ahead."

Well, at least the truth serum was still working properly, then.

"How do you know the sword belongs to Harry Potter?"

"Because Dumbledore left it to him in his will."

Severus snorted, exasperated. _That_ had been Dumbledore's plan to get the sword to Potter? He surely would have known it wouldn't work-he may as well have bequeathed the Black Lake to the boy. Good thing, really, that Albus had a backup plan.

"When was the last time you saw Harry Potter?"

"This past summer, at Bill's wedding."

"Where did he go after that?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No, they left suddenly, when the Death Eaters attacked."

Oh, so it had been _that_ night. "You said 'they.' Who was with him?"

"Hermione and Ron, as far as I know."

"Have you seen either of them?"

"Not since the wedding."

"Have you had any letters, messages, anything, from any of them?"

Miss Weasley got a little teary-a sign that the potion was losing effectiveness-but she still answered, "No, nothing."

Severus waited a few moments, until Miss Weasley blinked several times and sat up straight in her chair. "W-What did you do?" she asked, without the gruffness, but still with the stammer.

"I merely got some answers, Miss Weasley-nothing you need to concern yourself with." He made to grab her elbow to guide her out into the main office, but she shrugged away from his touch. She stood shakily and walked under her own power to the door. He sent her out and traded her for Longbottom, who was sweaty, shaking, and whose eyes were red-rimmed. Amycus had shifted his focus, then.

His interrogation of Longbottom was much the same-Longbottom hadn't seen Potter since the end of the previous school year, and didn't know his current location. When Longbottom emerged from the haze of Veritaserum, he shook his head a few times, as if to clear it.

The boy surprised him by saying, "I thought it was illegal to dose people with Veritaserum, Professor."

Severus fumed. Had the boy not yet discerned the lay of the land these days? Severus was not the only one who disregarded the law. "I thought that using the Cruciatus Curse on people was also illegal, Mr. Longbottom. Not to mention stealing school property."

"Not to mention murdering Professor Dumbledore."

Severus grabbed Longbottom roughly, who responded only with a squeak. Severus shoved him out the door and roared, "I need to see Miss Lovegood! Now!" Amycus smirked and sent her in.

Miss Lovegood was shaking slightly, but walked composedly to the chair and said to Severus, "The Cruciatus Curse is really horrible, Professor Snape. You shouldn't let the Carrows use it as much as they do." Her voice was scratchy and slightly breathless, and Severus decided that he hated everything and everyone. Eager for the interrogation to be over, he grabbed his bottle of Veritaserum, but Miss Lovegood said, "If you want me to tell you the truth, you can just ask me. I'll tell you if I need to lie."

And somehow, Severus believed her completely.

"Do you know where Harry Potter is?" he asked, still holding the bottle of truth serum.

"No. But to be fair, if I did know, I'd need to lie about it."

He corked the bottle and put it back in his pocket. "But, then why did you try to steal the sword of Gryffindor?"

"Because Ginny and Neville wanted to. They're like my friends, and it's nice to have friends. I didn't think their plan would work, but it's still rather nice to be with them."

"Whose idea was it?"

"Ginny's. I think she misses Harry a lot, and wants to help him." She looked thoughtful as she continued, "I think they had sex last year. Harry had a horrible case of Wrackspurts that cleared suddenly, and sex is the only thing that can do that."

Christ. He wished he'd used the Veritaserum. He would have gotten less truth through that route.

"When was the last time you saw Harry Potter?"

"At Ginny's brother's wedding. Harry was there, but he was wearing a disguise."

"Did he-or Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley-mention where they might go afterwards?"

"No, I don't think anyone planned for anything that happened afterwards."

And suddenly, Severus had more important questions. "Why are you talking so freely with me?"

"Because you haven't asked me anything I need to lie about."

"Will you tell the others that we talked like this?"

"Only if they ask, but they probably won't."

He had never known anyone quite like her. "Have you lied to me yet?"

"I lied to you last year when we talked about boggarts in class. But I still don't want to talk about what my boggart is, so if you ask me again, I'll still lie."

He couldn't help himself. "What's your boggart?"

"Professor Carrow," she said immediately. "That's a lie," she clarified.

"Will you tell me if Harry Potter contacts you?"

"Yes."

He frowned. "Is that not a lie?"

"No, because Harry won't try to contact any of us, anyway."

Thus by the rules of formal logic, she had told the truth. He bowed slightly to her, because the moment demanded it of him. He almost asked for her permission to throw her out of his office, but caught himself in time. He roughly grabbed her by the upper arm-she startled, and looked at him, betrayed-but he dragged her behind him and threw her out the door. She stumbled, but didn't fall.

"I will assign detentions to these three!" he roared at Amycus, who flinched. "You will leave at once!"

The man scrambled to leave, and Severus glared at the children left in his office. "You will never break into my office again. You will report to Professor Hagrid tomorrow night at eight o'clock to serve your detentions. You are dismissed."

The children looked at him with wide eyes. Longbottom finally spoke. "Is-is that all, sir?"

"I could also subject you to the Cruciatus Curse, if you wish," he said, raising his wand and wondering if he would.

Miss Weasley spoke, and she seemed to have recovered her composure. "We need our wands, sir."

"You'll get your wands when I say you get your wands!" he yelled, and shoved them all forcibly out his door. It would serve them right if they fell down the staircase.

Christ, he didn't even remember that he had their wands. He looked on his desk, and _in_ his desk, and in the small room he had used for the interrogations, and finally found them in his pocket. He was glad he'd kicked the students out; they didn't need to see him bumbling. But still, they needed their wands as soon as possible; the halls of Hogwarts were not safe for unarmed witches and wizards.

He summoned Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, and gave them the wands to return. They didn't look at him, nor did they ask why he had the students' wands. He was glad of both of those things.


	12. Chapter 12

NOTES: I've gone back and fixed some formatting. I've kind of been more careful about posting to AO3, and just slopping the chapters up here, but for those of you reading it here...I dunno, maybe you'd like to know where the breaks are?

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _Felt the loneliness seeping in  
_ -:-:-:-:-:-

Severus felt like he'd been headmaster for decades. Every day, it seemed like he had more gray hair-it would be quite impossible for him to be a vain man, of course, but he still begrudged every single white hair that appeared in the mirror. And the deepening wrinkles between his eyes did not make him look more distinguished. He looked...old.

He was thirty-seven years old. He'd been headmaster for not quite three months. And still, the Dark Lord sent Nagini to do his bidding.

After those idiot students had broken into his office, he'd made a big show of transferring a copy of the sword to Bellatrix's vault in Gringotts. (He'd been careful to insult the goblins there; it wouldn't do for them to reveal the fake.) He hoped this would prevent further break-ins, and also had a vague hope that somehow Potter would hear about it.

Although, _how_ Potter would hear about it, he wasn't sure.

But one evening in late November when Severus was going over paperwork at his desk, Phineas Nigellus Black gave a startled cry. The portraits around him jumped; Louisa Collingsworth (1832-1844) fell out of her chair. "What is it?" Hartley Oldham (1717-1734) asked.

"Someone's calling me from my other portrait!" Phineas replied.

Severus looked up in alarm. "Go," he said. Phineas did, and Severus waited. He purposely did not check the time.

He did start counting, slowly, in his head. He got to seventy-three when Albus said, "It has to be Harry."

Of course it had to be Harry. Severus didn't need to be told that any more than Albus needed to say it. He ignored the dead man and continued counting at seventy-four.

At two hundred six, Phineas returned with a blindfold painted across his eyes. "Get this blasted thing off me!" he yelled. Hartley Oldham reached over to help him, while Severus suppressed wild laughter.

It appeared that Miss Granger was still in charge of her wits.

When Phineas could once again see, he said, "It was Potter! Potter and his two friends-I could never remember their names-that boy he shared a room with in Grimmauld Place and that mudblood who was always with them!"

"Do not use that word!" Severus erupted.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry!" Phineas replied, still breathless. But he settled back as if he were finished with his narrative.

"Well?" Severus asked. "Where are they?"

"Oh, they wouldn't tell me."

Severus growled. He didn't know why he ever thought anything would be easy. "Why did they call you?"

"They'd heard, Headmaster! They'd heard about the sword of Gryffindor!"

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing important-but they didn't ask anything important, either."

"What did they ask?"

"They asked who removed the sword the last time. They asked how their _friends_ had been punished. They asked if you cleaned the sword, Headmaster!" The portrait scowled as if he'd never heard anything so stupid in his life. "And then they asked me to bring Professor Dumbledore to talk to them!"

"And there were no clues as to their whereabouts-no windows you could see out of?"

"I couldn't see, Headmaster, due to _the blindfold_." Phineas was usually fairly respectful towards Severus, but evidently even he had his limits.

But at least Potter was still alive. So at least Severus would still get the privilege of telling him he had to die.

* * *

And so the holding pattern continued. His former colleagues avoided him; his current colleagues treated him like...like he was their _mate_ , and the students continued to be little shits. Except for Draco Malfoy, who was oddly subdued. Draco should have actively tormented Severus, whether out of jealousy for murdering Dumbledore, or out of shame because Severus had witnessed his failure. But instead, Draco passively tormented Severus by doing nothing. Severus wondered how the boy coped with the Dark Lord using his home as a base-with the Dark Lord's iron will wrapped around the throats of his family.

This must have gone on for another two decades, at least, until term was almost over. In early December, he decided to cancel Christmas at Hogwarts.

It was only fitting, really. Severus could think of no good reason to allow students to stay at the castle, not even those with a fucking Dark Lord staying in their home.

Besides, Draco would want to see his parents.

When Severus told the Heads of House his plans to close Hogwarts for Christmas, Professor McGonagall stiffened and seemed ready to make a comment, but Professor Flitwick spoke first. "I'm fairly certain that none of my students had planned to stay over the holiday, Headmaster."

But Professor McGonagall could not be deterred. "Severus, we've discussed this in the past-some children simply come from homes that are unacceptable, and I will not send them-"

Severus cut her off with a growl, but Professor Sprout jumped in before he could speak: "Minerva, I'm sure we can find suitable arrangements for all our students."

"But Pomona, I refuse-"

"Minerva," the other woman said, and put a hand on her arm. "We'll discuss it."

Good. Perhaps she could explain to Professor McGonagall the definition of "unacceptable" and all the reasons Hogwarts qualified as such. Professor McGonagall probably already knew; she probably just wanted to fight. A part of Severus even welcomed it.

It was another reason they'd gotten along so well Before.

* * *

But even _this_ plan to save the students from harm backfired. On the evening that the students left Hogwarts, Amycus cheerfully informed him that Luna Lovegood would not be returning.

"Jes' got word that some of ours escorted her off the train," he said.

Severus wanted to ask _why_ , but didn't think he should broadcast his ignorance. Instead he said, "That's one fewer to worry about, then." He hoped it was just _one_ fewer-who knew how the other students reacted to the abduction of one of their own.

"That, too," Amycus snorted, "but I think they're hoping to keep old Xeno in line."

Severus ended the conversation quickly. He'd not been reading _The Quibbler_ , but resolved to keep an eye out for back issues.

By the time Severus was quite alone in the castle, Phineas Nigellus Black had been called to his other portrait three more times, but was able to report even less than he had the first time. "I know I've said it before, Headmaster-but in this case it is particularly true: I do not understand children. I have no idea why they keep calling me."

But if Severus had to guess at Potter's motivation, he would guess that it had something to do with feelings of isolation, and wanting to know what was going on in a world he was hiding from.

It was merely a guess, anyway, and had nothing to do with Severus's own situation. He'd ordered Phineas to spend some time lurking outside the frame of his other portrait, to try to catch any bit of conversation-any hint about the boy's whereabouts. Unexpectedly, on Boxing Day, this halfhearted plan produced results, and Phineas burst into the frame and announced that Potter was in the Forest of Dean. Severus would have liked more details, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

So he took the sword of Gryffindor and Apparated to the Forest of Dean-vaguely the middle bit of it, as he had no real idea where to start. He arrived mid-morning, and despite using all his magic and a systematic search, he'd found no trace of the teenagers by nightfall.

Well. He'd thought that Potter and his cohorts had been able to evade Deaths Eaters by a combination of their own dumb luck and the incompetence of their pursuers, but perhaps there was some modicum of skill at work as well. He sat down on a rock to think.

It appeared that they were using rudimentary wards and protective magic. Such magic worked against both neutral parties and those who meant harm. Therefore, someone who was completely good ought to be able to pass through the wards. Severus would obviously be repelled, but perhaps he could conjure something that would work.

He needed a place to hide the sword that was difficult to access, but not too difficult. And he needed to hide himself nearby so he could make sure nothing went wrong. He busied himself with preparations, and finally, finally, cast his Patronus. The doe looked at him with her big eyes and nuzzled his hand. "Find him," he whispered to her. "Bring him here. Don't speak to him."

She walked away, picking her steps carefully. He crouched down in his hiding place and waited a few minutes, wondering if Potter would really follow an unknown Patronus into a dark forest. And then he almost laughed at himself.

Not long after, the doe reappeared with Potter close behind. Weasley and Miss Granger were not with him, which annoyed Severus more than he cared to admit. Of course Potter was foolish enough to follow an unknown Patronus into a dark forest, but Severus had hoped that he wasn't so foolish as to do it alone.

But he was in no position to scold the boy for it now. The doe disappeared just as Potter caught up with it. Thrown into darkness, the boy hastily lit his wand. Belatedly, he seemed concerned about his surroundings, holding his wand aloft and looking about warily.

Severus took the opportunity to look at Potter. He was far too thin-thinner than Severus had ever seen him, even with all the sweaters he was wearing. He had the scruffy beginnings of a beard and his hair was in desperate need of a cut. And it appeared at first that the boy had two black eyes, but his eyes were sunken instead of swollen.

In short, he looked terrible. And then he started to strip.

He had bands of ugly bruises around his torso and arms. Bite marks on one arm. (So the Dark Lord _still_ sent Nagini to do his bidding, then-apparently that heart-to-heart about Potter's destiny would have to wait.) And, most oddly, he wore a gaudy pendant on a chain around his neck. The pendant almost concealed an angry wound on the boy's chest.

Severus wondered how the boy was still alive. None of stories told by his wounds gave any hint how he'd survived them. He must be the most stubbornly _alive_ human the world had ever seen. Severus began to doubt that the Dark Lord would be _able_ to end the life of such a person.

And yet, the boy continuously flirted with Death. He did it even now, as he submerged himself in the frozen pool, alone, at night, in a forest. There was a slight ripple to the water's surface, but no other disturbances, and yet...and yet the boy had been under water for far longer than was necessary to grab the sword.

 _Come on, come on_ , Severus willed. _You've got it, now get out of there._

He stayed still for far too long; the boy must already be dead. He stood in a panic- _I just killed the Boy Who Lived!_ -and wondered how he'd explain this to the Dark Lord-hadn't he just been thinking that the boy _couldn't_ be killed?-but he saw Ronald Weasley sprinting to the pool and diving without hesitation.

Severus froze, but Weasley was already pulling Potter out of the pool, dragging the sword of Gryffindor along with him. Potter was coughing and sputtering, and Severus felt his shoulders sag in relief.

"Are-you- _mental_?" Weasley scolded his friend, and Severus agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly. "Why the _hell_ didn't you take this thing off before you dived?" The boy held up the gaudy pendant, and Severus looked at Potter. With the wound on his chest and a thin red line around his neck, he might still be wearing the ghost of the necklace.

Severus didn't understand the exchange, but to stay and listen was folly. He'd delivered the sword; Potter still lived. He Disapparated.

* * *

Before the new year, Severus found the December issue of _The Quibbler_ in the bins outside the Hog's Head. The magazine was generally pro-Harry Potter, and the cover story was baffling.

 ** _Break-in at the Ministry:  
Part of Potter's Master Plan?_**

 _We've all heard about the breech in Ministry security on 2 September, when three persons smuggled themselves into Ministry courtrooms to free Muggle-borns from the clutches of Dolores Umbridge. The story we heard was that the identities of those persons were unknown, and that they posed as Ministry of Magic employees in order to undermine the authority of that august institution._

 _BUT DID THEY?_

 _This reporter has found out secret information which reveals that the three people who broke in to the Ministry were none other than the Chosen One himself-Harry Potter-and his friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Their purpose in breaking into the Ministry was actually to steal the lost diadem of Ravenclaw from Dolores Umbridge, which will lead to the ultimate defeat of You-Know-Who. Exactly how Umbridge came to possess the lost diadem remains a mystery._

The article continued, but Severus had read quite enough. Dolores Umbridge, in possession of the diadem of Ravenclaw? What, did she also have the cup of Hufflepuff, the sword of Gryffindor, and-why not-the locket of Slytherin, too?

It was preposterous. These artifacts were legends, nothing more. Except, of course, the sword of Gryffindor, which Severus had personally delivered to Harry Potter.

But something niggled in his mind, and he pulled out the memory of that night in the Forest of Dean and placed it in the Pensieve. He watched it and took careful note of the pendant Potter had around his neck. It was a heavy, golden locket decorated with an ornate script S. Weasley acted like the locket had tried to kill him, and Potter had marks on his body to substantiate that.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Severus swore, and withdrew from the memory, placing it quickly back inside his head.

He had no idea what it all meant. He glared at Albus's portrait, even though the man was snoring loudly. Albus had never wanted him to be privy to Potter's task, anyway.

But somehow, Xenophilius Lovegood seemed to have stumbled upon something that resembled the truth.

* * *

Severus woke up every morning, made note of his new white hairs and wrinkles, went to breakfast in the Great Hall, pretended to be amused by the Carrows, tolerated shitheaded teenagers, approved of their torture with his silence, and ignored the other teachers. Then he would go to bed and get up the next morning and do the same thing. It was almost as bad as his sixth year at Hogwarts, when he'd lacked friends but not enemies. However, at least this time he had his death to look forward to; he could not imagine himself surviving the war. If the Dark Lord didn't kill him for his treachery, then those who fought against him would.

Severus had no way of knowing if the sword of Gryffindor was being put to whatever use Albus had intended. Phineas Nigellus was not summoned to his other portrait again, and when Severus sent him to spy on Potter and his comrades, Phineas returned empty-handed.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster, but wherever they're keeping my other portrait is completely dark and silent."

Severus could sympathize, but tried to keep himself from getting too maudlin.

He was sitting at his desk one night during Easter Break-when the castle was again empty, this time without prompting by Severus, but he suspected Professor Sprout was behind it-when his Mark abruptly burned. It startled him so much that he cried out and somehow managed to knock over a bottle of ink.

He was not being summoned. The _Dark Lord_ was being summoned-to Malfoy Manor.

The Dark Lord-who had been abroad (on very important business, he'd said) for much of the year-had left explicit instructions to contact him in only one instance: the capture of Harry Potter.

"No," Severus gasped. He hadn't told Potter anything...the Dark Lord couldn't be defeated...Dumbledore's plan had not yet been fulfilled.

"What is it, Severus?" Albus asked.

He took several breaths. "It is nothing I can help," he decided, and clenched his jaw. He picked up the bottle of ink, lying on its side, and threw it hard against the wall. He flung all the papers off his desk for good measure. He tried to calm himself, but the chair in front of his desk caught fire.

He let it burn.

He didn't know how long he sat there, frozen, watching the flames dance in front of him, but he was startled out of his near-catatonia when his Mark burned again. This time it was a personal summons, to the gates of Hogwarts. He turned to look out the window and saw a single figure standing outside the gates in the gray dawn.

So where was Potter? Why was the Dark Lord here, alone? He didn't have time to ponder these things; he transfigured the still-burning chair into a lantern and made his way to the front gates.

"Severus," the Dark Lord greeted him.

"It's not often I get the pleasure of entertaining you here, my Lord," he said as he opened the gates.

"Yes, and it is my hope that I don't find you as incompetent as some of your friends," the Dark Lord replied-the only hint that he would give Severus about the night's events.

"That is my wish as well," he replied. "What business brings you here this morning, my Lord? You'll find the castle quite empty." As he said it, he felt gratitude toward Professor Sprout, and buried it quickly.

"Oh, this and that. At the moment, I'm feeling sentimental and wish to walk the grounds alone. I shall join you in the castle shortly. Leave me now."

And Severus did. He waited for the Dark Lord in his office, and if he kept darting glances around him, or opened his desk drawers once or twice without seeing anything within them-well, he could be forgiven a few nervous ticks.

But when the Dark Lord arrived, he was clearly delighted about something-he asked very few questions and chuckled at everything Severus said. He left within ten minutes. Severus escorted him back to the gates.

When Severus returned to his office, he sat down at his desk and silently stared at the closed door for a long time.

"What do you think that was about?" Castro Parmer whispered.

Severus shrugged and looked at Albus, who wasn't smiling. "Nothing good," the dead man said. "Nothing good."

Severus dispatched Phineas Nigellus to his other portrait-just in case-but the elder Black reported no change. "As silent and dark as ever, Headmaster."

Severus wondered if that was good news.

Later that day, Severus received an owl from Miss Lovegood, of all people. Her note read:

 _Dear Professor Snape,_

 _I said I would tell you if Harry contacted me, and I'm not sure this counts, but a promise is a promise. Harry didn't purposely contact me, but he and Ron and Hermione were all captured, and Harry and Ron were put in the same cell I was in-it was the basement of Mr. Malfoy's home, which was quite nice for a basement, but as it was a cell I didn't like it very much. Don't worry, we escaped, even Hermione-who was tortured rather badly-except that a house elf called Dobby died saving us._

 _I hope your Easter holidays are well._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Luna Lovegood_

Severus stared at the note for several long minutes, then burned it.

* * *

Ginevra Weasley didn't return to Hogwarts after Easter Break, and as the Carrows were upset by that fact, Severus found himself cheered. Still, he made the requisite visit to the Burrow along with the twins, only to find the home abandoned. The clock that showed the locations of family members was gone. Severus walked up to the attic bedroom alone, and found that same creature, lying in Ronald Weasley's attic bedroom, wearing Ronald Weasley's pajamas, and moaning. Well, maybe Molly and Arthur had to leave in a hurry and couldn't tie up all the loose ends.

"Excuse me," he told the creature.

"Unnnggh?" was the reply.

"Your services are no longer needed. You may leave."

"Unnnnnggggh," said the creature.

" _Finite Incantatem_ ," he said, and the mop of red hair disappeared, leaving behind a very disgruntled ghoul. "Go back to where you came from," Severus told it.

The ghoul sighed and got up from the bed. The smell was awful; Severus left quickly.

When he reached the ground floor, Alecto asked him, "Don't suppose you found anyone up there?"

"No," Severus said, and they all left together.

* * *

It wasn't long before Neville Longbottom stopped showing up to classes. The timing coincided almost exactly with the failed attempt to capture Augusta Longbottom, and Severus hardly thought it a coincidence. The Carrows were outraged at the sudden disappearance of a student, but none of the Professors admitted to knowing the location of the boy. Professor McGonagall protested angrily that she had no idea where the boy was, and that he wasn't anywhere in Gryffindor Tower. The Gryffindor portraits said the same thing, but Severus suspected they were more loyal to the Head of Gryffindor than the Headmaster.

Meanwhile, news started circulating that the Dark Lord had procured a new wand that would finally enable him to kill Harry Potter. Severus thought that it had better be the mythical fucking Elder Wand, or else the Dark Lord didn't have a chance. The Boy Who Lived had an appropriate epithet, after all.

Severus didn't express these doubts to Albus. The headmaster had seemed sure enough, while he was alive, that Potter could die. The old man's death likely hadn't changed his perspective.


	13. Chapter 13

-:-:-:-:-:-  
 _Are you my ally or my enemy?  
Do you have self-loathing or empathy?  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

On the first of May, Severus's Mark burned once again, summoning the Dark Lord...

...To Hogwarts.

Potter was here. Potter had come back to the castle. Albus had not mentioned a thing about it, but something about the boy's arrival felt _final_. Severus hadn't seen the Dark Lord's snake in a while-possibly it was already under protection?

He calmly stood from his desk and turned to the portraits. "I have business that needs attending," he told them, and left his office.

He went calmly down the spiral staircase, but his heart thundered madly. He alternated between panicked thoughts-how was he going to accomplish his goal?-the boy was _here_?-and focusing entirely on maintaining a calm exterior.

He could not calm his thoughts. _Potter must die_... _Potter must not fight the Dark Lord_... _Potter must believe me when I tell him_... _how do I get Potter alone?_

He could not formulate a plan. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He made for the Ravenclaw common room. _Why would Potter go there?_ he wondered. _To find the lost diadem of Ravenclaw, of course!_ He chuckled a bit, hysterically, before he focused again on projecting calm.

With any luck, Severus would be dead by the end of night, and Potter would be dead not long after. But for Potter to die properly, Severus had to tell him _before he died himself_. It was the only reason he'd been maintaining this farce for almost an entire year. He could not fail now.

He forced himself to stop walking. He put his hand against the cold stone wall of the empty corridor and took several deep breaths. Finally, finally, he was able to Occlude.

Right, then. The mission.

Before he could resume his course toward the Ravenclaw common room, he heard someone walking toward him. He ducked back into an alcove and saw Professor McGonagall pass him, apparently alone. He moved to follow, but she heard him and spun around with her wand raised.

"Who's there?" she said.

He didn't even consider remaining hidden. He needed Professor McGonagall's-Minerva's-help. "It is I," he said, as he emerged with his wand drawn defensively. "Where are the Carrows?" He couldn't speak freely if they were anywhere near.

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus," she said.

At least one of them had been in the Ravenclaw common room, and Severus hadn't told them to be there. Had the Dark Lord issued instructions to the Carrows without using Severus as an intermediary? Did the Dark Lord not trust Severus?

But more importantly, Professor-Minerva-was coming from the Ravenclaw common room, and she didn't seem to be too concerned that she'd been followed. Potter must be with her. He looked around, as if he could sense anything under that damned Invisibility Cloak.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder," he said.

"Really?" she replied smoothly. "And what gave you that impression?"

He didn't think he reacted, but she glanced down at his arm all the same.

"Oh, but naturally," Minerva said, "you Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot."

 _I'm not one of them, you have to trust me_. He was sure that statement would work wonders. The only people who would be stupid enough to believe it would be the Carrows, and they would murder him immediately if they ever heard him say it.

Instead, he said, "I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva." _Minerva_ , he thought desperately. _It's me_. How often had they complained to each other about nightly patrols, each vowing to do the bare minimum?

She didn't notice his code. "You have some objection?" she replied, focusing on his words, not his meaning.

He played along for a bit, but then gambled everything. "Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva?" _Minerva, it's me, Severus_ , he thought again-but Minerva had never made the distinction between _Severus_ and _Professor Snape_. "Because if you have, I must insist-"

But she attacked before he could finish the thought. He was forced to cast a hasty shield, but she attacked again and again. He wasn't sure if he would have wanted to cast an offensive charm against her, but he didn't even get the chance. Her anger made her too quick.

And that was before Filius and Pomona came running in to join the fight.

There was nothing for it; he ran. He ran into a classroom and jumped out a window and flew away.

 _That_ could have gone better.

He made his way to the Dark Lord's side-a foolish move, but his only other options were more foolish. The Dark Lord was not pleased at his arrival, but as Severus knew more about the castle than any other Death Eater, his information, at least, was welcome. Severus told the Dark Lord that a direct attack on the castle would be the most effective. It was an absolute lie, but since the Dark Lord expected to hear it, Severus had no qualms saying it. His reward for the information was to lead the charge of one of the main flanks on the south side of the castle.

When the battle commenced, Severus threw elaborately mimed Cumpleaños Charms at the castle. If he managed to hit anyone, he would know their birthday. It was the most innocuous spell he could think of. Hogwarts itself seemed to agree with him, as one or two of the charms made it through the castle wards. He managed to hit on someone born on 28 August, and another on 14 June. A Virgo and a Gemini, he thought wildly-two signs more likely to be adept at potions-and kept up the show of furious spellcasting.

When the acromantulas entered the battle, most of the people fighting on Severus's side of the castle split off. Hogwarts had been breached on one side, and Severus joined those throwing spells at the gaping hole where part of the western wall had been. He continued to throw the Cumpleaños Charm, but surreptitiously cast mild Confusion Hexes at the Death Eaters around him.

His breath caught when his Cumpleaños Charm hit someone born on 31 July. A Leo, he tried to tell himself. Traditionally terrible with potions. Unlikely to be Harry Potter, really.

But it did narrow down the possibilities.

He still did not yet have a concrete plan for how to break the news to the boy. He knew that when he told Potter, he couldn't be subtle and he couldn't hold back. He had vague ideas of Potter using Legilimency, which was obviously just a dream of Severus's. But it would simplify Severus's life, which was why it wouldn't happen.

The battle raged on, and even though Severus had to resort to several different shields to repel attacks, and even though several Death Eaters fell around him, it was still obvious that the Death Eaters had the upper hand. Severus started to throw Strengthening Charms at the castle walls.

 _Dumbledore and his stupid plans_. Severus could not see the old man's endgame working. What would happen if Potter fought the Dark Lord-would the Dark Lord kill him and then be invincible? And yet, somehow, if Potter _didn't_ fight the Dark Lord, then the Dark Lord would kill him and then anyone could defeat him?

He must be missing something, but as he was in the middle of a fucking battle for world dominance, Severus didn't have time to examine the problem thoroughly. He supposed the answer was magic. Besides, Dumbledore had staked Severus's life on his theory. All Severus had to do was convince the boy. Well-he did have to _find_ the boy first.

And then Lucius Malfoy appeared at his side, and told him the Dark Lord had requested his presence in the Shrieking Shack.

The Shrieking Shack. It wasn't his favorite place and he'd rather not set foot in it again. But Severus had given up his choice in the matter long ago. He abandoned the battle and went where he was bid.

It was almost a relief when he arrived and that fucking snake was contained in a magical cage. If he could just find Potter, now...everything would be over soon.

But for some reason he couldn't fathom, the Dark Lord was talking about his wand, and how two wands had failed him previously. "I sought a third wand, Severus," he said. "The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

Severus felt the words like a punch in the gut. He buried everything under his Occlumency almost instantly, but he still registered the thoughts.

 _The Elder Wand_. The actual Elder Wand. So the Dark Lord would most likely succeed when he next made an attempt on Harry Potter's life.

 _The Elder Wand_. Dumbledore had never told him; Severus had never suspected. And yet Albus must have known it would come to this.

 _The Elder Wand._ Wasn't it reputed to pass from owner to owner by way of murder? If so...in that case...shouldn't the wand answer to Severus?

Severus banished all of these thoughts. Aside from everything that Dumbledore had concealed, Severus still had a job to do. "My Lord-let me go to the boy-"

He was beginning to suspect he wouldn't get the chance. The Dark Lord was surely only telling Severus this story for one reason...

And they were in the Shrieking Shack, which never boded well for Severus...

And Severus would welcome his death, but for the one thing he had left to do.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

"My Lord!" Severus said, raising his own wand in the vain hope that he could prevent what would surely follow. _Where was Potter_?

"It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

Severus had told exactly no one of Dumbledore's final plan. If he died without fulfilling his promise-without telling Potter-then everything- _everything_ -he had done would be in vain. The Dark Lord would be victorious. Lily would have died for nothing. He would have murdered Dumbledore for nothing.

There was a moment after the Dark Lord flicked his wand and nothing happened-Severus drew in a breath-and he thought that maybe he'd been granted a reprieve long enough that he could tell Potter-but then the snake-that damned snake-floated over in its clear cage and bit him, ruthlessly, on the neck.

Severus couldn't stop it.

It _hurt_ , oh Merlin, it hurt. He had blood-replenishing potions in his pockets-healing potions-Pepper-Up-but his hands didn't seem to be working. He was lying on the ground-when did he fall to the ground? He gasped, and realized that the Dark Lord was gone. Someone was in front of him, though, and he tried to focus his eyes...

 _Potter_. It was an impossible coincidence, which was only to be expected of the boy. Severus almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, but all he managed to do was grab on to Potter's robes.

He would die soon, very soon. All he had to do was bare his soul completely to the son of his tormentor, and the son of his first true friend, the only person he'd ever loved. He would bare his soul and Potter would be left to bear the burden, then Severus could die and then Potter would die. Whatever happened after that, neither of them would live with the consequences.

He felt his memories leaving him, spilling out, telling his story, explaining his motives, explaining Potter's fate.

"Take...it...take...it..." he said, because the boy didn't seem to know what Severus was giving him.

"Look...at...me..." He wondered what he'd see in Potter's eyes. Would the boy be able to do what was asked of him? Could he confront the Dark Lord, without a wand, without a hope for a future-could he sacrifice himself, could he accept the fate that had been thrust upon him as an infant?

Potter looked at him, and Severus had his answer. The boy's eyes-so much like Lily's-were full of empathy.

Empathy for Severus Snape. Not even Lily had ever looked at him like that.

And Severus slipped into the darkness.

* * *

END NOTES: So, from here on out, it's choose your own ending: click on the next chapter, and you'll have a canon-compliant ending. If canon is not your cup of tea, then read the next story in the series, "Third Time's a Charm."


	14. Epilogue

NOTES: I'm posting this the same day as chapter 13. Don't skip a chapter!

* * *

-:-:-:-:-:- _  
Can you keep me in your prayers, sister  
Can you keep me in there somewhere  
_-:-:-:-:-:-

In the end, it was Ron Weasley who thought to send a Patronus to Minerva. The little terrier found her just after He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named had commanded his forces to retreat for one hour. When the dog spoke to her, it was with the muddled yet absolutely clear logic of the youngest Weasley boy: "Professor, you need to go to the Shrieking Shack, right away. Snape is there, and he's dying. There's something with him-I don't know, but something happened and I think you'll want to talk to him." (When she asked him, later, why he'd thought to send a message to her, of all people, Weasley shrugged. "Seemed the thing to do," he said. "I mean, you were friends with him, right?")

When she got the message, she ran as fast as she could-which was fast, even for a cat-to the Shack. She found Severus, not quite dead and lying in enough blood, surely, to fill three people. She pressed her hands to his neck, uselessly, and then fished around his pockets for the blood-replenishing potions she knew he kept in there, and forced some down his throat.

But he revived only briefly.

"Minerva," he whispered.

"Severus, you stupid fool. What did you do?" She was crying already, and she hadn't even forgiven him yet. Or maybe she had-maybe her forgiveness had slipped past her.

"Albus," he said, and wheezed a few more times. "Plan."

She chuckled hysterically around her tears. "That would just about sum this up."

They looked at each other, both breathing raggedly. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Why didn't Albus tell me? I could have helped you, Severus-I'm so sorry-I..."

"Your act...critical. You...bad actress." He nodded minutely, and closed his eyes.

"I am so sorry, Severus-I could have made this year easier on you..."

But he shook his head again. She continued, "You were saving students from _them_ all year, Severus Snape. You were a complete...fucking...arsehole about it-"

His lips curled upward at this, and she sighed and continued, "But I wouldn't expect you to have done it any other way."

And she knelt by him, one hand on his shoulder and the other hand on his cheek, and nattered on about inconsequential things-the weather, the turning of the seasons, how he should stop wearing so much black-until he died.

It didn't take long.

Three days later, at dawn, she burned his body on a pyre just outside the school. No ostentatious funeral, no grave marker-but a bold statement all the same. She was surprised by the number of people who showed. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, of course, but also Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom-Neville Longbottom!-Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and of course all of Slytherin House who remained, the Malfoys prominent among them. Minerva looked at all of them but said nothing as she walked slowly to the pyre holding a lit torch, which she placed at the base. Everyone stayed silent except Miss Lovegood, who started humming a wild tune that was familiar as an old shoe, but that Minerva had never heard before. The crackle of the fire harmonized with the tune, and then the fire took over the melody while Miss Lovegood harmonized, and then the fire was so loud that Minerva couldn't hear the humming at all.

And then she turned and walked toward the school. She didn't look back.


End file.
